THE  LIBRARY 

OF 
THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


fteace  on  Carrtj, 
6oob-%ill  to 


on  Cartij, 
ill  to  Bogs 


Cleaner  Balloted!  3bfaott 

Sartor  el  ~&&.JU*" 


.  liuttmt  &  Companp 


COPYRIGHT,  1920, 
BY   E.  P.  DUTTON   &    COMPANY 


Att  Rights  Reserved 


First  printing October,  1920 

Second  vrinting October,  1980 

Third  printing October,  1WO 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


A 


CONTENTS 

PAOK 

PART   I 1 

PART  n 58 


eace  on  €arti), 
to  Bogs; 


PEACE  ON  EARTH 
GOOD  WILL  TO  DOGS 

PARTI 

you  don't  like  Christmas 
stories,  don't  read  this  one! 
And  if  you  don't  like  dogs  I 
don't  know  just  what  to  advise  you  to  do ! 
For  I  warn  you  perfectly  frankly  that 
I  am  distinctly  pro-dog  and  distinctly 
pro-Christmas,  and  would  like  to  bring  to 
this  little  story  whatever  whiff  of  fir-bal- 
sam I  can  cajole  from  the  make-believe 
forest  in  my  typewriter,  and  every  glitter 
of  tinsel,  smudge  of  toy  candle,  crackle 
of  wrapping  paper,  that  my  particular 


Peace  on  Earth 


brand  of  brain  and  ink  can  conjure  up  on 
a  single  keyboard!  And  very  large-sized 
dogs  shall  romp  through  every  page !  And 
the  mercury  shiver  perpetually  in  the 
vicinity  of  zero !  And  every  foot  of  earth 
be  crusty-brown  and  bare  with  no  white 
snow  at  all  till  the  very  last  moment  when 
you'd  just  about  given  up  hope!  And  all 
the  heart  of  the  story  is  very, — oh  very 
young! 

For  purposes  of  propriety  and  general 
historical  authenticity  there  are  of  course 
parents  in  the  story.  And  one  or  two  other 
oldish  persons.  But  they  all  go  away  just 
as  early  in  the  narrative  as  I  can  manage 
it. — Are  obliged  to  go  away ! 

Yet  lest  you  finfl  in  this  general  com- 
bination of  circumstances  some  sinister 
threat  of  audacity,  let  me  conventionalize 
[2] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


the  story  at  once  by  opening  it  at  that 
most  conventional  of  all  conventional 
Christmas-story  hours, — the  Twilight  of 
Christmas  Eve. 

NufF  said? — Christmas  Eve,  you  re- 
member? Twilight?  Awfully  cold 
weather?  And  somebody  very  young? 

Now  for  the  story  itself! 

After  five  blustering,  wintry  weeks  of 
village  speculation  and  gossip  there  was 
of  course  considerable  satisfaction  in  be- 
ing the  first  to  solve  the  mysterious  holi- 
day tenancy  of  the  Rattle-Pane  House. 

Breathless  with  excitement  Flame 
Xourice  telephoned  the  news  from  the  vil- 
lage post-office.  From  a  pedestal  of  boxes 
fairly  bulging  with  red-wheeled  go-carts, 
one  keen  young  elbow  rammed  for  bal- 
ance into  a  gay  glassy  shelf  of  stick-candy, 
[3] 


Peace  on  Earth 


green  tissue  garlands  tickling  across  her 
cheek,  she  sped  the  message  to  her 
mother. 

"O  Mother-Funny!"  triumphed  Flame. 
"I've  found  out  who's  Christmasing  at  the 
Rattle-Pane  House! — It's  a  red-haired 
setter  dog  with  one  black  ear!  And  he's 
sitting  at  the  front  gate  this  moment! 
Superintending  the  unpacking  of  the  fur- 
niture van!  And  I've  named  him 
Lopsy!" 

"Why,  Flame;  how — absurd!"  gasped 
her  mother.  In  consideration  of  the  fact 
that  Flame's  mother  had  run  all  the  way 
from  the  icy-footed  chicken  yard  to  an- 
swer the  telephone  it  shows  distinctly  what 
stuff  she  was  made  of  that  she  gasped 
nothing  else. 

And  that  Flame  herself  re-telephoned 
within  the  half  hour  to  acknowledge  her 
[4] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


absurdity  shows  equally  distinctly  what 
stuff  9he  was  made  of!  It  was  from  the 
summit  of  a  crate  of  holly-wreaths  that 
she  telephoned  this  time. 

"Oh  Mother  -  Funny,**  apologized 
Flame,  "yoa  were  perfectly  right.  No 
lone  dog  in  the  world  could  possibly  man- 
age a  great  spooky  place  like  the  Rattle- 
Pane  House.  There  are  two  other  dogs 
with  him!  A  great  long,  narrow  sofa- 
shaped  dog  upholstered  in  lemon  and 
white, — something  terribly  ferocious  like 
'Russian  Wolf  Hound"  I  think  he  is! 
But  I've  named  him  Beautiful-Lovely! 
And  there's  the  neatest  looking  paper- 
white  coach  dog  just  perfectly  ruined  with 
ink-spots!  Blunder-Blot,  I  think,  wfll 
make  a  good  name  for  him!  And " 

"Oh Fl amer  panted  her 

Mother.  "Dogs— do— not— bakehouses !" 
[5] 


Peace  on  Earth 


It  was  not  from  the  chicken-yard  that 
she  had  come  running  this  time  but  only 
from  her  Husband's  Sermon- Writing- 
Room  in  the  attic. 

"Oh  don't  they  though?"  gloated 
Flame.  "Well,  they've  taken  this  one, 
anyway!  Taken  it  by  storm,  I  mean! 
Scratched  all  the  green  paint  off  the  front 
door!  Torn  a  hole  big  as  a  cavern  in  the 
Barberry  Hedge!  Pushed  the  sun-dial 
through  a  bulkhead! — If  it  snows  to-night 
the  cellar '11  be  a  Glacier !  And " 

"Dogs — do — not — take — houses,"  per- 
sisted Flame's  mother.  She  was  still  per- 
sisting it  indeed  when  she  returned  to  her 
husband's  study. 

Her  husband,  it  seemed,  had  not  no- 
ticed her  absence.  Still  poring  over  the 
tomes  and  commentaries  incidental  to  the 
[6] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


preparation  of  his  next  Sunday's  sermon 
his  fine  face  glowed  half  frown,  half  ecs- 
tacy,  in  the  December  twilight,  while  close 
at  his  elbow  all  unnoticed  a  smoking  kero- 
sine  lamp  went  smudging  its  acrid  path 
to  the  ceiling.  Dusky  lock  for  dusky  lock, 
dreamy  eye  for  dreamy  eye,  smoking 
lamp  for  smoking  lamp,  it  might  have 
been  a  short-haired  replica  of  Flame  her- 
self. 

"Oh  if  Flame  had  only  been  'set*  like 
the  maternal  side  of  the  house!"  reasoned 
Flame's  Mother.  "Or  merely  dreamy  like 
her  Father!  Her  Father  being  only 
dreamy  could  sometimes  be  diverted  from 
his  dreams!  But  to  be  'set*  and  'dreamy' 
both?  Absolutely  'set'  on  being  abso- 
lutely'dreamy'?  That  was  FlamePWith 
renewed  tenacity  Flame's  Mother  re- 
verted to  Truth  as  Truth.  'T)ogs  do  not 


Peace  on  Earth 


take  houses!"  she  affirmed  with  unmistak- 
able emphasis. 

"Eh?  What?"  jumped  her  husband. 
"Dogs?  Dogs?  Who  said  anything  about 
dogs?"  With  a  fretted  pucker  between 
his  brows  he  bent  to  his  work  again.  "You 
interrupted  me,"  he  reproached  her.  "My 
sermon  is  about  Hell-Fire. — I  had  all  but 
smelled  it. — It  was  very  disagreeable." 
With  a  gesture  of  impatience  he  snatched 
up  his  notes  and  tore  them  in  two.  "I 
think  I  will  write  about  the  Garden  of 
Eden  instead!"  he  rallied.  "The  Garden 
of  Eden  in  Iris  time!  Florentina  Alba 
everywhere !  Whiteness !  Sweetness ! — 
Now  let  me  see, — orris  root  I  believe  is 
deducted  from  the  Florentina  Alba ." 

"U — m — m — m,"  sniffed  Flame's 
Mother.  With  an  impulse  pur  prac- 
tical she  started  for  the  kitchen.  "The 

M 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


season  happens  to  be  Christmas  time," 
she  suggested  bluntly.  "Now  if  you 
could  see  your  way  to  make  a  sermon 
that  smelt  like  doughnuts  and  plum-pud- 
ding  " 

"Doughnuts?"  queried  her  Husband 
and  hurried  after  her.  Supplementing 
the  far,  remote  Glory-of-God  expression 
in  his  face,  the  glory-of -doughnuts  shone 
suddenly  very  warmly. 

Flame  at  least  did  not  have  to  be  re- 
minded about  the  Seasons. 

"Oh  mother!"  telephoned  Flame  almost 
at  once,  "It's — so  much  nearer  Christmas 
than  it  was  half  an  hour  ago!  Are  you 
sure  everything  will  keep?  All  those  big 
packages  that  came  yesterday?  That 
humpy  one  especially?  Don't  you  think 
you  ought  to  peep?  Or  poke?  Just  the 
teeniest,  tiniest  little  peep  or  poke?  It 


Peace  on  Earth 


would  be  a  shame  if  anything  spoiled! 
A — turkey — or  a — or  a  fur  coat — or  any- 
thing." 

"I  am — making  doughnuts,"  confided 
her  Mother  with  the  faintest  possible 
taint  of  asperity. 

"O— h,"  conceded  Flame.  "And 
Father's  watching  them?  Then  I'll 
hurry!  M — Mother?"  deprecated  the  ex- 
cited young  voice.  "You  are  always  so 
horridly  right!  Lopsy  and  Beautiful- 
Lovely  and  Blunder-Blot  are  not  Christ- 
masing  all  alone  in  the  Rattle-Pane 
House!  There  is  a  man  with  them! 
Don't  tell  Father, — he's  so  nervous  about 
men!" 

"A — man?"  stammered  her  Mother. 
"Oh  I  hope  not  a  young  man!  Where 
did  he  come  from?" 

"Oh  I  don't  think  he  came  at  all,"  con- 
[10] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


fided  Flame.  It  was  Flame  who  was 
perplexed  this  time.  "He  looks  to  me 
more  like  a  person  who  had  always  been 
there!  Like  something  I  mean  that  the 
dogs  found  in  the  attic!  Quite  crumpled 
he  is!  And  with  a  red  waistcoat! — A — A 
butler  perhaps? — A — A  sort  of  a  second 
hand  butler?  Oh  Mother! — I  wish  we 
had  a  butler!" 

"Flame — ?"  interrupted  her  Mother 
quite  abruptly.  "Where  are  you  doing 
all  this  telephoning  from?  I  only  gave 
you  eighteen  cents  and  it  was  to  buy 
cereal  with." 

"Cereal?"  considered  Flame.  "Oh  that's 
all  right,"  she  glowed  suddenly.  "I've 
paid  cash  for  the  telephoning  and 
charged  the  cereal." 

With  a  swallow  faintly  gutteral 
Flame's  Mother  hung  up  the  receiver. 


Peace  on  Earth 


"Dogs —  do —  not —  have —  butlers,"    she 
persisted  unshakenly. 

She  was  perfectly  right.  They  did  not, 
it  seemed. 

No  one  was  quicker  than  Flame  to 
acknowledge  a  mistake.  Before  five 
o'clock  Flame  had  added  a  telephone  item 
to  the  cereal  bill. 

"Oh — Mother,"  questioned  Flame. 
"The  little  red  sweater  and  Tarn  that 
I  have  on? — Would  they  be  all  right,  do 
you  think,  for  me  to  make  a  call  in?  Not 
a  formal  call,  of  course, — just  a — a 
neighborly  greeting  at  the  door?  It  be- 
ing Christmas  Eve  and  everything! — 
And  as  long  as  I  have  to  pass  right  by 
the  house  anyway? — There  is  a  lady  at 
the  Rattle-Pane  House!  A — A — what 
Father  would  call  a  Lady  Maiden! — 

Miss " 

[12] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


"Oh  not  a  real  lady,  I  think,"  protested 
her  Mother.  "Xot  with  all  those  dogs. 
Xo  real  lady  I  think  would  have  so  many 
dogs. — It — It  isn't  sanitary." 

"Isn't— sanitary?"  cried  Flame,  "Why 
Mother,  they  are  the  most  absolutely — 
perfectly  sanitary  dogs  you  ever  saw  in 
your  life!"  Into  her  eager  young  voice 
an  expression  of  ineffable  dignity  shot 
suddenly.  "Well— really,  Mother,"  she 
said,  "In  whatever  concerns  men  or  cro- 
cheting— I'm  perfectly  willing  to  take 
Father's  advice  or  yours.  But  after  all, 
I'm  eighteen,"  stiffened  the  young  voice. 
"And  when  it  comes  to  dogs — I  must  use 
my  own  judgment!" 

"And  just  what  is  the  lady's  namef 
questioned  her  Mother  a  bit  weakly. 

"Her  name  is  'Miss  Flora' !"  bright- 
ened Flame,  "The  Butler  has  just  gone 
[18] 


Peace  on  Earth 


to  the  Station  to  meet  her!  I  heard  him 
telephoning  quite  frenziedly!  I  think  she 
must  have  missed  her  train  or  something! 
It  seemed  to  make  everybody  very  nerv- 
ous! Maybe  she's  nervous!  Maybe  she's 
a  nervous  invalid!  With  a  lost  Lover 
somewhere!  And  all  sorts  of  pressed 
flowers! — Somebody  ought  to  call  any- 
way! Call  right  away,  I  mean,  before 
she  gets  any  more  nervous! — So  many 
people's  first  impressions  of  a  place — 
I've  heard — are  spoiled  for  lack  of 
some  perfectly  silly  little  thing  like  a 
nutmeg  grater  or  a  hot  water  bottle  I 
And  oh,  Mother,  it's  been  so  long  since 
any  one  lived  in  the  Rattle-Pane  House! 
Not  for  years  and  years  and  years!  Not 
dogs,  anyway!  Not  a  lemon  and  white 
wolf  hound!  Not  setters!  Not  spotty 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


dogs! — Oh  Mother,  just  one  little  wee 
single  minute  at  the  door?  Just  long 
enough  to  say  'The  Rev.  and  Mrs.  Flam- 
ande  Nourice,  and  Miss  Nourice,  present 
their  compliments! — And  are  you  by 
any  chance  short  a  marrow-bone?  Or 
would  you  possibly  care  to  borrow  an 
extra  quilt  to  rug-up  under  the  kitchen 
table?  .  .  .  Blunder-Blot  doesn't  look 
very  thick.  Or — Oh  Mother,  p-l-e-ar8-ef 
When  Flame  said  "Please"  like  that 
the  word  was  no  more,  no  less,  than  the 
fabled  bundle  of  rags  or  haunch  of  veni- 
son hurled  back  from  a  wolf-pursued 
sleigh  to  divert  the  pursuer  even  tempo- 
rarily from  the  main  issue.  While  Flame's 
Mother  paused  to  consider  the  particu- 
larly flavorous  sweetness  of  that  entreaty, 
— to  picture  the  flashing  eye,  the  pulsing 
[15] 


Peace  on  Earth 


throat,  the  absurdly  crinkled  nostril  that 
invariably  accompanied  all  Flame's  en- 
treaties, Flame  herself  was  escaping! 

Taken  all  in  all,  escaping  was  one  of 
the  best  things  that  Flame  did.  .  .  .  As 
well  as  the  most  becoming!  Whipped  into 
scarlet  by  the  sudden  plunge  from  a 
stove-heated  store  into  the  frosty  night 
her  young  cheeks  fairly  blazed  their 
bright  reaction.  Frost  and  speed  quick- 
ened her  breath.  Glint  for  glint  her  shin- 
ing eyes  challenged  the  moon.  Fearful 
even  yet  that  some  tardy  admonition 
might  overtake  her  she  sped  like  a  deer 
through  the  darkness. 

It  was  a  dull-smelling  night.  Pretty, 
but  very  dull-smelling.  Disdainfully  her 
nostrils  crinkled  their  disappointment. 

"Christmas  Time  adventures  ought  to 
smell  like  Christmas!"  she  scolded.  "May- 
[16] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


be  if  I'm  ever  President,"  she  argued,  "I 
won't  do  so  awfully  well  with  the  Tariff 
or  things  like  that!  But  Christmas  shall 
smell  of  Christmas!  Not  just  of  frozen 
mud!  And  camphor  balls!  .  .  .  Ill  have 
great  vats  of  Fir  Balsam  essence  at  every 
street  corner!  And  gigantic  atomizers! 
And  every  passerby  shall  be  sprayed! 
And  stores!  And  churches!  And — And 
everybody  who  doesn't  like  Christmas 
shall  be  dipped!" 

Under  her  feet  the  smoothish  village 
road  turned  suddenly  into  the  harsh  and 
hobbly  ruts  of  a  country  lane.  With  fluc- 
tuant blackness  against  immutable  black- 
ness great  sweeping  pine  trees  swished 
weirdly  into  the  horizon.  Where  the 
hobbly  lane  curved  darkly  into  a  meadow 
through  a  snarl  of  winter-stricken  wil- 
lows the  rattle  of  a  loose  window-pane 


Peace  on  Earth 


smote  quite  distinctly  on  the  ear.  It  was 
a  horrid,  deserted  sound.  And  with  the 
instinctive  habit  of  years  Flame's  little 
hand  clutched  at  her  heart.  Then  quite 
abruptly  she  laughed  aloud. 

"Oh  you  can't  scare  me  any  more,  you 
gloomy  old  Rattle-Pane  House!"  she 
laughed.  "You're  not  deserted  now! 
People  are  Christmasing  in  you !  Wheth- 
er you  like  it  or  not  ypu're  being  Christ- 
mased!" 

Very  tentatively  she  puckered  her  lips 
to  a  whistle.  Almost  instantly  from  the 
darkness  ahead  a  dog's  bark  rang  out, 
deep,  sonorous,  faintly  suspicious.  With 
a  little  chuckle  of  joy  she  crawled 
through  the  Barberry  hedge  and  emerged 
for  a  single  instant  only  at  her  full  height 
before  three  furry  shapes  came  hurtling 
[18] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


out  of  the  darkness  and  toppled  her  over 
backwards. 

"Stop,  Beautiful-Lovely!**  she  gasped, 
"Stop,  Lopsy!  Behave  yourself,  Blun- 
der-Blot! SSKe*!  Don't  you  know  I'm 
the  lady  that  was  talking  to  you  this 
morning  through  the  picket  fence  ?  Don't 
you  know  I'm  the  lady  that  fed  you  the 
box  of  cereal?— Oh  dear— Oh  dear— Oh 
dear,"  she  struggled.  "I  knew,  of  course, 
that  there  were  three  dogs — but  who  ever 
in  the  world  would  have  guessed  that  three 
could  be  so  many?" 

As  exp edi tiou sly  as  possible  she  picked 
herself  up  and  bolted  for  the  house  with 
two  furry  shapes  leaping  largely  on 
either  side  of  her  and  one  cold  nose  sniff- 
ing interrogatively  at  her  heels.  Her  heart 
was  very  light, — her  pulses  jumping  with 
excitement, — an  occasional  furry  head 
[19] 


Peace  on  Earth 


doming  into  the  palm  of  her  hand  warmed 
the  whole  bleak  night  with  its  sense  of 
mute  companionship.  But  the  back  of  her 
heels  felt  certainly  very  queer.  Even  the 
warm  yellow  lights  of  the  Rattle-Pane 
House  did  not  altogether  dispel  her  un- 
easiness. 

"Maybe  I'd  better  not  plan  to  make 
my  call  so — so  very  informal,"  she  de- 
cided suddenly.  "Not  at  a  house  where 
there  are  quite  so  many  dogs!  Not  at  a 
house  where  there  is  a  butler  .  .  .  any- 
way!" 

Crowding  and  pushing  and  yelping 
and  fawning  around  her,  it  was  the  dogs 
who  announced  her  ultimate  arrival.  Like 
a  drift  of  snow  the  huge  wolf-hound 
whirled  his  white  shagginess  into  the 
vestibule.  Shrill  as  a  banging  blind  the 
[20] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


impetuous  coach-dog  lurched  his  sleek 
weight  against  the  door.  Sucking  at  a 
crack  of  light  the  red  setter's  kindled  nose 
glowed  and  snorted  with  dragonlike. 
ferocity.  Without  knock  or  ring  the 
door-handle  creaked  and  turned,  three 
ecstatic  shapes  went  hurtling  through  a 
yellow  glare  into  the  hall  beyond,  and 
Flame  found  herself  staring  up  into  the 
blinking,  astonished  eyes  of  the  crumpled 
old  man  with  the  red  waistcoat. 

"G — Good  evening, — Butler!"  she  ral- 
lied. 

"Good  evening,  Miss!"  stammered  the 
Butler. 

"I've—I've  come  to  call,"  confided 
Flame. 

"To— call?"    stammered    the    Butler. 

"Yes,"  conceded  Flame.  "I— I  don't 
[21] 


Peace  on  Earth 


happen  to  have  an  engraved  card  with 
me."  Before  the  continued  imperturba- 
bility of  the  old  Butler  all  subterfuge 
seemed  suddenly  quite  useless.  "I  never 
have  had  an  engraved  card,"  she  confided 
quite  abruptly.  "But  you  might  tell  Miss 
Flora  if  you  please "  . . .  Would  noth- 
ing crack  the  Butler's  imperturbability? 
.  .  .  Well  maybe  she  could  prove  just  a 
little  bit  imperturbable  herself!  "Oh! 
Butlers  don't  'tell'  people  things,  do  they? 
.  .  .  They  always  'announce*  things,  don't 
they?  .  .  .  Well,  kindly  announce  to  Miss 
Flora  that  the — the  Minister's  Daughter 
is — at  the  door!  .  .  .  Oh,  no!  It  isn't 
asking  for  a  subscription  or  anything!" 
she  hastened  quite  suddenly  to  explain. 
"It's  just  a  Christian  call!  .  .  .B— Being 
so  nervous  and  lost  on  the  train  and 
everything  ...  we  thought  Miss  Flora 
[22] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


might  lie  glad  to  know  that  there  were 
neighbors.  .  .  .  We  live  so  near  and 
everything.  ...  .  And  can  run  like  the 
wind!  Oh,  not  Mother,  of  course!  .  .  . 
She's  a  hit  stout!  And  Father  starts  all 
right  but  usually  gets  thinking  of  some- 
thing else!  But  I  .  .  .  ?  Kindly  an- 
nounce to  Miss  Flora,"  she  repeated  with 
palpable  crispness,  "that  the  Minister's 
Daughter  is  at  the  door!" 

Fixedly  old,  fixedly  crumpled,  fixedly 
imperturbable,  the  Butler  stepped  back  a 
single  jerky  pace  and  bowed  her  towards 
the  parlor. 

"Now,"  thrilled  Flame,  "the  adventure 
really  begins." 

It  certainly  was  a  sad  and  romantic 

looking  parlor,  and  strangely  furnished, 

Flame  thought,  for  even  "moving  times.9* 

Through    a   maze   of   bulging    packing 

[28] 


Peace  on  Earth 


boxes  and  barrels  she  picked  her  way  to 
a  faded  rose-colored  chair  that  flanked 
the  fire-place.  That  the  chair  was  al- 
ready half  occupied  by  a  pile  of  ancient 
books  and  four  dusty  garden  trowels  only 
served  to  intensify  the  general  air  of 
gloom.  Presiding  over  all,  two  dreadful 
boquets  of  Jong-dead  grasses  flared  wanly 
on  the  mantle-piece.  And  from  the  tat- 
tered old  landscape  paper  on  the  walls 
Civil  War  heroes  stared  regretfully  down 
through  pale  and  tarnished  frames. 

"Dear  me  ...  dear  me,"  shivered 
Flame.  "They're  not  going  to  Christmas 
at  all  ...  evidently!  Not  a  sprig  of 
holly  anywhere!  Not  a  ravel  of  tinsel! 
Not  a  jingle  bell!  .  .  .Oh  she  must  have 
lost  a  lot  of  lovers,"  thrilled  Flame.  "I 
can  bring  her  flowers,  anyway!  My  very 

first  Paper  White  Narcissus!    My ." 

[24] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


With  a  scrape  of  the  foot  the  Butler 
made  known  his  return. 

"Miss  Flora!"  he  announced. 

With  a  catch  of  her  breath  Flame 
jumped  to  her  feet  and  turned  to  greet 
the  biggest,  ugliest,  most  brindled,  most 
wizened  Bull  Dog  she  had  ever  seen  in 
her  life. 

"Miss  Flora!"  repeated  the  old  Butler 
succinctly. 

"Miss  Flora?"  gasped  Flame.  "Why 
.  .  .  Why,  I  thought  Miss  Flora  was  a 
Lady!  Why " 

"Miss  Flora  is  indeed  a  very  grand 
lady,  Miss!"  affirmed  the  Butler  without 
a  flicker  of  expression.  "Of  a  pedigree 
so  famous  ...  so  distinguished  .  .  . 
so  .  .  ."  Numerically  on  his  fingers  he 
began  to  count  the  distinctions.  "Five 
prizes  this  year!  And  three  last!  Do 
[25] 


Peace  on  Earth 


you  mind  the  chop?"  he  gloated.  "The 
breadth !  The  depth !  .  .  .  Did  you  never 
hear  of  alauntes?"  he  demanded.  "Them 
bull-baiting  dogs  that  was  invented  by 
the  second  Duke  of  York  or  thereabouts 
in  the  year  1406?" 

"Oh  my  Glory!"  thrilled  Flame.  "Is 
Miss  Flora  as  old  as  that?" 

"Miss  Flora,"  said  the  old  Butler  with 
some  dignity,  "is  young — hardly  two  in 
fact — so  young  that  she  seems  to  me  but 
just  weaned." 

With  her  great  eyes  goggled  to  a  par- 
ticularly disconcerting  sort  of  scrutiny 
Miss  Flora  sprang  suddenly  forward  to 
investigate  the  visitor. 

As  though  by  a  preconcerted  signal  a 

chair  crashed  over  in  the  hall  and  the 

wolf  hound  and  the  setter  and  the  coach 

dog  came  hurtling  back  in  a  furiously 

[26] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


cordial  onslaught  With  wags  and  growls 
and  yelps  of  joy  all  four  dogs  met  in 
Flame's  lap. 

"They  seem  to  like  me,  don't  theyf 
triumphed  Flame.  Intermittently 
through  the  melee  of  flapping  ears, — 
shoving  shoulders, — waving  paws,  her 
beaming  little  face  proved  the  absolute 
sincerity  of  that  triumph.  "Mother's 
never  let  me  have  any  dogs,"  she  con- 
fided. "Mother  thinks  they're  not 

Oh.  of  course,  I  realize  that  four  dogs  is 
a — a  good  many,"  she  hastened  dip- 
lomatically to  concede  to  a  certain  sudden 
droop  around  the  old  Butler's  mouth 
corners. 

From  his  slow,  stooping  poke  of  the 
sulky  fire  the  old  Butler  glanced  19  with 
a  certain  plaintive  intentness. 

"All  dogs  is  too  many,"  he 
[27] 


Peace  on  Earth 


"Come  Christmas  time  I  wishes  I  was 
dead." 

"Wish  you  were  dead  ...  at  Christ- 
inas Time?"  cried  Flame.  Acute  shock 
was  in  her  protest. 

"It's  the  feedin', "  sighed  the  old  But- 
ler. "It  ain't  that  I  mind  eatin'  with  them 
on  All  Saints'  Day  or  Fourth  of  July  or 
even  Sundays.  But  come  Christmas  Time 
it  seems  like  I  craves  to  eat  with  More 
Humans.  ...  I  got  a  nephew  less'n 
twenty  miles  away.  He's  got  cider  in  his 
cellar.  And  plum  puddings.  His  woman 
she  raises  guinea  chickens.  And  mince 
pies  there  is.  And  tasty  gravies. — But  me 
I  mixes  dog  bread  and  milk — dog  bread 
and  milk — till  I  can't  see  nothing — think 
nothing  but  mush.  And  him  with  cider 
in  his  cellar!  ...  It  ain't  as  though  Mr. 
Delcote  ever  came  himself  to  prove  any- 
£28] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


thing,"  he  argued.  "Not  he!  Not  Christ- 
mas Time!  It's  travelling  he  is.  ... 
He's  had  .  .  .  misfortunes,"  he  confided 
darkly.  He  travels  for  'em  same  as  some 
folks  travels  for  their  healths.  Most 
especially  at  Christmas  Time  he  travels 
for  his  misfortunes!  He  .  .  ." 

"Mr.  Ddcoter  quickened  Flame.  "Mr. 
Delcote?"  (Now  at  last  was  the  mysteri- 
ous tenancy  about  to  be  divulged?) 

"All  he  says,"  persisted  the  old  Butler. 
"All  he  says  is  'Now  Barret/ — that's  me, 
'Now  Barret  I  trust  your  honor  to  see 
that  the  dogs  ain't  neglected  just  because 
it's  Christmas.  There  ain't  no  reason,  Bar- 
ret', he  says,  'why  innocept  dogs  should 
suffer  Christmas  just  because  everybody 
else  does.  They  ain't  done  nothing.  .  .  . 
It  won't  do  now  Barret',  he  says,  'for 
you  to  give  'em  their  dinner  at  dawn 
[89] 


Peace  on  Earth 


when  they  ain't  accustomed  to  it,  and  a 
pail  of  water,  and  shut  'em  up  while  you 
go  off  for  the  day  with  any  barrel  of 
cider.  You  know  what  dogs  is,  Barret', 
he  says.  'And  what  they  isn't.  They've 
got  to  be  fed  regular',  he  says,  'and  with 
discipline.  Else  there's  deaths. — Some 
natural.  Some  unnatural.  And  some 
just  plain  spectacular  from  furniture 
falling  on  their  arguments.  So  if  there's 
any  fatalities  come  this  Christmas  Time, 
Barret',  he  says,  'or  any  undue  gains  in 
weight  or  losses  in  weight,  I  shall 
infer,  Barret',  he  says,  'that  you  was  ab- 
sent without  leave.'  ...  It  don't  look 
like  a  very  wholesome  Christmas  for  me," 
sighed  the  old  Butler.  "Not  either  way. 
Not  what  you'd  call  wholesome." 

"But    this     Mr.     Delcote?"     puzzled 
Flame.    "What  a  perfectly  horrid  man 
[80] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


he  must  be  to  give  such  heavenly  dogs 
nothing  but  dog-bread  and  milk  for  their 
Christmas  dinner!  ...  Is  he  young?  Is 
he  old?  Is  he  thin?  Is  he  fat?  However 
in  the  world  did  he  happen  to  come  to  a 
queer,  battered  old  place  like  the  Rattle- 
Pane  House?  But  once  come  why  didn't 
he  stay?  And— And— And ?" 

"Yes'm,"  sighed  the  old  Butler. 

In  a  ferment  of  curiosity,  Flame  edged 
jerkily  forward,  and  subsided  as  jerkily 
again. 

"Oh,  if  this  only  was  a  Parish  Call," 
she  deprecated,  "I  could  ask  questions 
right  out  loud.  'How?  Where?  Why? 
When?'  .  .  .  But  being  just  a  social  call 
— I  suppose — I  suppose  .  .  .  ?"  Ap- 
pealingly  her  eager  eyes  searched  the  old 
Butler's  inscrutable  face. 

"Yes'm,"  repeated  the  old  Butler 
[31] 


Peace  on  Earth 


dully.  Through  the  quavering  fingers 
that  he  swept  suddenly  across  his  brow 
two  very  genuine  tears  glistened. 

With  characteristic  precipitousness 
Flame  jumped  to  her  feet. 

"Oh,  darn  Mr.  Delcote!"  she  cried. 
"I'll  feed  your  dogs,  Christmas  Day!  It 
won't  take  a  minute  after  my  own  dinner 
or  before!  I'll  run  like  the  wind!  No 
one  need  ever  know!" 

So  it  was  that  when  Flame  arrived  at 
her  own  home  fifteen  minutes  later,  and 
found  her  parents  madly  engaged  in 
packing  suit-cases,  searching  time-tables, 
and  rushing  generally  to  and  fro  from 
attic  to  cellar,  no  very  mutual  exchange 
of  confidences  ensued. 

"It's  your  Uncle  Wally!"  panted  her 
Mother. 

"Another  shock!"  confided  her  Father. 
[32] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


"Not  such  a  bad  one,  either,"  explained 
her  Mother.  "But  of  course  well  have 
to  go!  The  very  first  thing  in  the  morn- 
ing! Christmas  Day,  too!  And  leave 
you  all  alone!  It's  a  perfect  shame!  But 
I've  planned  it  all  out  for  everybody! 
Father's  Lay  Reader,  of  course,  will  take 
the  Christmas  service!  Well  just  have 
to  omit  the  Christmas  Tree  surprise  for 
the  children!  .  .  .  It's  lucky  we  didn't 
even  unpack  the  trimmings!  Or  tell  a 
soul  about  ft."  In  a  hectic  effort  to  pack 
both  a  thick  coat  and  a  thin  coat  and  a 
thick  dress  and  a  thin  dress  and  thick 
boots  and  thin  boots  in  the  same  suit-case 
she  began  very  palpably  to  pant  again. 
"Yes!  Every  detafl  is  afl  planned  out!" 
she  asserted  with  a  breathy  sort  of  pride. 
"You  and  your  Father  are  both  so  flighty 
I  don't  know  whatever  in  the  world  you'd 
[88] 


Peace  on  Earth 


do  if  I  didn't  plan  out  everything  for 
you!" 

With  more  manners  than  efficiency 
Flame  and  her  Father  dropped  at  once 
every  helpful  thing  they  were  doing  and 
sat  down  in  rocking  chairs  to  listen  to 
the  plan. 

"Flame,  of  course,  can't  stay  here  all 
alone.  Flame's  Mother  turned  and 
confided  sotto  voce  to  her  husband. 
Young  men  might  call.  The  Lay  Reader 
is  almost  sure  to  call.  .  .  .  He's  a  dear  de- 
lightful soul  of  course,  but  I'm  afraid  he 
has  an  amorous  eye." 

"All  Lay  Readers  have  amorous 
eyes,"  reflected  her  husband.  "Taken  all 
in  all  it  is  a  great  asset." 

"Don't  be  flippant!"  admonished 
Flame's  Mother.  "There  are  reasons  .  . 
why  I  prefer  that  Flame's  first  off er  of 
[84] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


marriage  should  not  be  from  a  Lay 
Reader." 

"Why?"  brightened  Flame. 

"S— sh— ,"  cautioned  her  Father. 

"Very  good  reasons,"  repeated  her 
Mother.  From  the  conglomerate  pack- 
ing under  her  hand  a  puff  of  spilled 
tooth-powder  whiffed  fragrantly  into  the 
air. 

"Yes?"  prodded  her  husband's  blandly 
impatient  voice. 

"Flame  shall  go  to  her  Aunt  Minna's 
announced  the  dominant  maternal  voice. 
"By  driving  with  us  to  the  station,  she'll 
have  only  two  hours  to  wait  for  her  train, 
and  that  will  save  one  bus  fare!  Aunt 
Minna  is  a  vegetarian  and  doesn't  believe 
in  sweets  either,  so  that  will  be  quite  a 
unique  and  profitable  experience  for 
Flame  to  add  to  her  general  culinary 
[35] 


Peace  on  Earth 


education!  It's  a  wonderful  house!  .  .  . 
A  bit  dark  of  course!  But  if  the  day 
should  prove  at  all  bright, — not  so  bright 
of  course  that  Aunt  Minna  wouldn't  be 

willing  to  have  the  shades  up,  but 

Oh  and  Flame,"  she  admonished  still 
breathlessly,  "I  think  you'd  better  be 
careful  to  wear  one  of  your  rather  long- 
ish  skirts!  And  oh  do  be  sure  to  wipe 
your  feet  every  time  you  come  in!  And 
don't  chatter!  Whatever  you  do,  don't 
chatter!  Your  Aunt  Minna,  you  know, 
is  just  a  little  bit  peculiar!  But  suoh  a 
worthy  woman!  So  methodical!  So.  .  ." 
To  Flame's  inner  vision  appeared  quite 
suddenly  the  pale,  inscrutable  face  of  the 
old  Butler  who  asked  nothing, — answered 
nothing,  —  welcomed  nothing,  —  evaded 
nothing. 

[36] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


".  .  .  Yes'm,"  said  Flame. 

But  it  was  a  very  frankly  disconsolate 
little  girl  who  stole  late  that  night  to 
her  Father's  study,  and  perched  herself 
high  on  the  arm  of  his  chair  with  her 
cheek  snuggled  close  to  his. 

"Of  Father-Funny,"  whispered  Flame, 
"I've  got  such  a  queer  little  pain." 

"A  pain?"  jerked  her  Father.  "Oh 
dear  me !  Where  is  it?  Go  and  find  your 
Mother  at  onceP 

"Mother?"  frowned  Flame,  "Oh  it 
isn't  that  kind  of  a  pain. — It's  in  my 
Christmas.  I've  got  such  a  sad  little  pain 
in  my  Christmas." 

"Oh  dear  me — dear  me!"  sighed  her 
Father.  Like  two  people  most"  precipi- 
tously smitten  with  shyness  they  sat  for 
a  moment  staring  blankly  around  the 
[37} 


Peace  on  Earth 


room  at  every  conceivable  object  except 
each  other.  Then  quite  suddenly  they 
looked  back  at  each  other  and  smiled. 

"Father,"  said  Flame.  "You're  not  of 
course  a  very  old  man.  .  .  .  But  still  you 
are  pretty  old,  aren't  you?  You've  seen 
a  whole  lot  of  Christmasses,  I  mean?" 

"Yes,"  conceded  her  Father. 

From  the  great  clumsy  rolling  collar 
of  her  blanket  wrapper  Flame's  little  face 
loomed  suddenly  very  pink  and  earnest. 

"But  Father,"  urged  Flame.  "Did 
you  ever  in  your  whole  life  spend  a 
Christmas  just  exactly  the  way  you 
wanted  to?  Honest-to-Santa  Claus  now, 
— did  you  ever?" 

"Why— Why,     no,"      admitted     her 

Father  after  a  second's  hesitation.  "Why 

no,  I  don't  believe  I  ever  did."     Quite 

frankly  between  his  brows  there  puckered 

[38] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


a  very  black  frown.  "Now  take  to-mor- 
row, for  instance/'  he  complained.  "I 
had  planned  to  go  fishing  through  the 
ice.  .  .  .  After  the  morning  service,  of 
course, — after  we'd  had  our  Christmas 
dinner, — and  gotten  tired  of  our  presents, 
— every  intention  in  the  world  I  had  of 
going  fishing  through  the  ice.  .  .  And 
now  your  Uncle  Wally  has  to  go  and 
have  a  shock!  I  don't  believe  it  was 
necessary.  He  should  have  taken  extra 
precautions.  The  least  that  delicate  rela- 
tives can  do  is  to  take  extra  precautions 
at  holiday  tune.  .  .  .Oh,  of  course  your 
Uncle  Wally  has  books  in  his  library," 
he  brightened,  "very  interesting  old  books 
that  wouldn't  be  perfectly  seemly  for  a 
minister  of  the  Gospel  to  have  in  his  own 
library.  .  .  .  But  still  it's  very]  disap- 
pointing," he  wilted  again. 
[89] 


Peace  on  Earth 


"I  agree  with  you  .  .  .  utterly,  Father- 
Funny!"  said  Flame.  "But  .  .  .  Father," 
she  persisted,  "Of  all  the  people  you 
know  in  the  world, — millions  would  it 
be?" 

"No,  call  it  thousands"  corrected  her 
Father. 

"Well,  thousands,"  accepted  Flame. 
"Old  people,  young  people,  fat  people, 
skinnys,  cross  people,  jolly  people?  .  .  . 
Did  you  ever  in  your  life  know  any  one 
who  had  ever  spent  Christmas  just  the 
way  he  wanted  to?" 

"Why  ...  no,  I  don't  know  that  I 
ever  did,"  considered  her  Father.  With 
his  elbows  on  the  arms  of  his  chair,  his 
slender  fingers  forked  to  a  lovely  Gothic 
arch  above  the  bridge  of  his  nose,  he 
yielded  himself  instantly  to  the  reflection. 
"Why  ...  no,  ...  I  don't  know  that  I 
C40] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


ever  did,"  he  repeated  with  an  increasing 
air  of  conviction.  .  .  .  "When  you're 
young  enough  to  enjoy  the  day  as  a 
'holler'  day  there's  usually  some  blighting 
person  who  prefers  to  have  it  observed  as 
a  holy  day.  .  .  .  And  by  the  time  you 
reach  an  age  where  you  really  rather 
appreciate  its  being  a  holy  day  the 
chances  are  that  you've  got  a  houseful 
of  racketty  youngsters  who  fairly  insist 
on  reverting  to  the  'holler'  day  idea 
again." 

"U — m — m,"  encouraged  Flame. 
— "When  you're  little,  of  course,"  mused 
her  Father,  "you  have  to  spend  the  day 
the  way  your  elders  want  you  to!  .  .  . 
You  crave  a  Christmas  Tree  but  they 
prefer  stockings!  You  yearn  to  skate 
but  they  consider  the  weather  better  for 
corn-popping!  You  ask  for  a  bicycle 
[41] 


Peace  on  Earth 


but  they  had  already  found  a  very  nice 
bargain  in  flannels!  You  beg  to  dine 
the  gay-kerchiefed  Scissor-Grinder's 
child,  but  they  invite  the  Minister's 
toothless  mother-in-law!  .  .  .  And  when 
you're  old  enough  to  go  courting,"  he 
sighed,  "your  lady-love's  sentiments  are 
outraged  if  you  don't  spend  the  day  with 
her  and  your  own  family  are  perfectly 
furious  if  you  don't  spend  the  day  with 
them!  .  .  .  And  after  you're  married?" 
With  a  gesture  of  ultimate  despair  he 
lank  back  into  his  cushions.  "N — o,  no 
bne,  I  suppose,  in  the  whole  world,  has 
ever  spent  Christmas  just  exactly  the 
way  he  wanted  to!" 

"Well,  I,"  triumphed  Flame,  "have  got 

a  chance  to  spend  Christmas  just  exactly 

the  way  I  want  to !  ...  The  one  chance 

perhaps  in  a  life-time,  it  would  seem!  .  . 

[42] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


No  heart  aches  involved,  no  hurt  feelings, 
no  disappointments  for  anybody!  No- 
body left  out!  Nobody  dragged  in!  Why 
Father-Funny,"  she  cried.  "It's  an  ex- 
perience that  might  distinguish  me  all  my 
life  long!  Even  when  I'm  very  old  and 
crumpled  people  would  point  me  out  on 
the  street  and  say  ' There's  some  one  who 
once  spent  Christmas  just  exactly  the 
way  she  wanted  to'!"  To  a  limpness  al- 
most unbelievable  the  eager  little  figure 
wilted  down  within  its  blanket-wrapper 
swathings.  "And  now  .  .  ."  deprecated 
Flame,  "Mother  has  gone  and  wished  me 
on  Aunt  Minna  instead !"  With  a  sudden 
revival  of  enthusiasm  two  small  hands 
crept  out  of  their  big  cuffs  and  clutched 
her  Father  by  the  ears.  "Oh  Father- 
Funny!"  pleaded  Flame.  "If  you  were 
too  old  to  want  it  for  a  Tioller'  day  and 
[43] 


Peace  on  Earth 


not  quite  old  enough  to  need  it  for  a  holy 
day  ...  so  that  all  you  asked  in  the  world 
was  just  to  have  it  a  holly  day!  Some- 
thing all  bright!  Red  and  green!  And 
tinsel!  and  jingle-bells!  .  .  .  How  would 
you  like  to  have  Aunt  Minna  wished  on 
you?  ...  It  isn't  you  know  as  though 
Aunt  Minna  was  a — a  pleasant  person," 
she  argued  with  perfectly  indisputable 
logic.  "You  couldn't  wish  one  'A  Meriy 
Aunt  Minna'  any  more  than  you  could 
wish  'em  a  'Merry  Good  Friday'  I"  From 
the  clutch  on  his  ears  the  small  hands 
crept  to  a  point  at  the  back  of  his  neck 
where  they  encompassed  him  suddenly  in 
a  crunching  hug.  "Oh  Father-Funny!" 
implored  Flame,  "You  were  a  Lay 
Reader  once!  You  must  have  had  very 
amorous  eyes!  Couldn't  you  please  per- 
suade Mother  that  .  .  ." 
[44] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


With  a  crisp  flutter  of  skirts  Flame's 
Mother,  herself,  appeared  abruptly  in  the 
door.  Her  manner  was  very  excited. 

"Why  wherever  in  the  world  have  you 
people  been?"  she  cried.  "Are  you  stone 
deaf?  Didn't  you  hear  the  telephone? 
Couldn't  you  even  hear  me  calling?  Your 
Uncle  Wally  is  worse!  That  is  he's  bet- 
ter but  he  thinks  he's  worse!  And  they 
want  us  to  come  at  once  I  It's  something 
about  a  new  will!  The  Lawyer  tele- 
phoned! He  advises  us  to  come  at  once! 
They've  sent  an  automobile  for  us!  It 
will  be  here  any  minute!  .  .  .  But  what- 
ever in  the  world  shall  we  do  about 
Flame?"  she  cried  distractedly.  "You 
know  how  Uncle  Wally  feels  about  hav- 
ing young  people  in  the  house!  And  she 
can't  possibly  go  to  Aunt  Minna's  till  to- 
morrow! And  .  .  ." 
{45] 


Peace  on  Earth 


"But  you  see  I'm  not  going  to  Aunt 
Minna's!"  announced  Flame  quite 
serenely.  Slipping  down  from  her 
Father's  lap  she  stood  with  a  round,  roly- 
poly  flannel  sort  of  dignity  confronting 
both  her  parents.  "Father  says  I  don't 
have  to!" 

"Why,  Flame!"  protested  her  Father. 

"No,  of  course,  you  didn't  say  it  with 
your  mouth,"  admitted  Flame.  "But  you 
said  it  with  your  skin  and  bones! — 
I  could  feel  it  working." 

"Not  go  to  your  Aunt  Minna's?" 
gasped  her  Mother.  "What  do  you  want 
to  do?  ...  Stay  at  home  and  spend 
Christmas  with  the  Lay  Reader?" 

"When  you  and  Father  talk  like  that," 
murmured  Flame  with  some  hauteur,  "I 
don't  know  whether  you're  trying  to  run 
him  down  ...  or  run  him  up." 
[46] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


"Well,  how  do  you  feel  about  him 
yourself?"  veered  her  Father  quite  irrel- 
evantly. 

"Oh,  I  like  him — some,"  conceded 
Flame.  In  her  bright  cheeks  suddenly 
an  even  brighter  color  glowed.  "I  like 
him  when  he  leaves  out  the  Litany,"  she 
said.  "I've  told  him  I  like  him  when  he 
leaves  out  the  Litany. — He's  leaving  it 
out  more  and  more  I  notice. — Yes,  I  like 
him  very  much." 

"But  this  Aunt  Minna  business," 
veered  back  her  Father  suddenly. 
'What  do  you  want  to  do?  That's  just 
the  question.  What  do  you  want  to  do?" 

"Yes.  what  do  you  want  to  do?"  panted 
her  Mother. 

"I  want  to  make  a  Christmas  for  my- 
selfr  said  Flame.  "Oh,  of  course,  I 
know  perfectly  well,"  she  agreed,  "that 


Peace  on  Earth 


I  could  go  to  a  dozen  places  in  the  Parish 
and  be  cry-babied  over  for  my  presum- 
able loneliness.  And  probably  I  should 
cry  a  little,"  she  wavered,  "towards  the 
dessert — when  the  plum  pudding  came  in 
and  it  wasn't  like  Mother's. — But  if  I 
made  a  Christmas  of  my  own "  she  ral- 
lied instantly.  "Everything  about  it 
would  be  brand-new  and  unassociated!  I 
tell  you  I  "want  to  make  a  Christmas  of 
my  own!  It's  the  chance  of  a  life-time! 
Even  Father  sees  that  it's  the  chance  of 
a  life-time!" 

"Do  you?"  demanded    his  wife  a  bit 
pointedly. 

"Honk-honk!"  screamed  the  motor  at 
the  door. 

"Oh,  dear  me,  whatever  in  the  world 

shall  I  do?"  cried  Flame's  Mother.    "I'm 

almost  distracted!  I'r 

[48] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


"When  in  Doubt  do  as  the  Doubters 
do,'\  suggested  Flame's  Father  quite 
genially.  "Choose  the  most  doubtful 

doubt  on  the  docket  and Flame's  got 

a  pretty  level  head,"  he  interrupted  him- 
self very  characteristically. 

"No  young  girl  has  a  level  heart,"  as- 
serted Flame's  Mother.  "I'm  so  worried 
about  the  Lay  Reader." 

"Lay  Reader?"  murmured  her  Father. 
Already  he  had  crossed  the  threshold  into 
the  hall  and  was  rummaging  through  an 
over-loaded  hat  rack  for  his  fur  coat. 
"Why,  yes,"  he  called  back,  "I  quite  for- 
got to  ask.  Just  what  kind  of  a  Christ- 
mas is  it,  Flame,  that  you  want  to  make?" 
With  unprecedented  accuracy  he  turned 
at  the  moment  to  force  his  wife's  arms 
into  the  sleeves  of  her  own  fur  coat. 

Twice  Flame  rolled  up  her  cuffs  and 
[49] 


Peace  on  Earth 


rolled  them  down  again  before  she  an- 
swered. 

"I — I  want  to  make  a  Surprise  for  Miss 
Flora,"  she  confided. 

Cl Honk-honk!"  urged  the  automobile. 

"For  Miss  Flora?"  gasped  her  Mother. 

"Miss  Flora?"  echoed  her  Father. 

"Why,  at  the  Rattle-Pane  House,  you 
know!"  rallied  Flame.  "Don't  you  re- 
member that  I  called  there  this  after- 
noon? It — it  looked  rather  lonely  there. 
—I— think  I  could  fix  it." 

"Honk-honk-honk!"  implored  the  au- 
tomobile. 

"But  who  is  this  Miss  Flora?"  cried 
her  Mother.  "I  never  heard  anything 
so  ridiculous  in  my  life!  How  do  we 
know  she's  respectable?" 

"Oh,  my  dear,"  deprecated  Flame's 
[50] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


Father.  "Just  as  though  the  owners  of 
the  Rattle-Pane  House  would  rent  it  to 
any  one  who  wasn't  respectable!" 

"Oh,  she's  very  respectable,"  insisted 
Flame.  "Of  a  lineage  so  distin- 
guished  " 

"How  old  might  this  paragon  be?" 
queried  her  Father. 

"Old?"  puzzled  Flame.  To  her 
startled  mind  two  answers  only  pre- 
sented themselves,  .  .  .  Should  she  say 
"Oh,  she's  only  just  weaned,"  or  "Well,— 
she  was  invented  about  1406?"  Between 
these  two  dilemmas  a  single  compromise 
suggested  itself.  "She's  awfully  wrin- 
kled," said  Flame;  "that  is — her  face  is. 
All  wizened  up,  I  mean." 

"Oh,  then  of  course  she  must  be  re- 
spectable," twinkled  Flame's  Father. 

"And  is  related  in  some  way,"  per- 

[si] 


Peace  on  Earth 


sisted   Flame,    "to   Edward   the   2nd— 
Duke  of  York." 

"Of  that  guarantee  of  respectability 
I  am,  of  course,  not  quite  so  sure,"  said 
her  Father. 

With  a  temperish  stamping  of  feet, 
an  infuriate  yank  of  the  door-bell,  Uncle 
Wally's  chauffeur  announced  that  the 
limit  of  his  endurance  had  been  reached. 

Blankly  Flame's  Mother  stared  at 
Flame's  Father.  Blankly  Flame's 
Father  returned  the  stare. 

"Oh,  p-l-e-a-s-e!"  implored  Flame. 
Her  face  was  crinkled  like  fine  crepe. 

"Smooth  out  your  nose!"  ordered  her 
Mother.  On  the  verge  of  capitulation 
the  same  familiar  fear  assailed  her. 
"Will  you  promise  not  to  see  the  Lay 
Reader?"  she  bargained. 

"—Yes'm,"  said  Flame. 
[52] 


PART  II 

'T'S  a  dull  person  who  doesn't 
wake   up   Christmas   Morning 
with  a  curiously  ticklish  sense  of 
Tinsel  in  the  pit  of  his  stomach  I 
—  A  sort  of  a  Shine!    A  kind  of  a  Pain! 

"Glisten  and  Tears, 
Pang  of  the 


That's  Christmas! 

So  much  was  born  on  Christmas  Day! 
So  much  has  died!  So  much  is  yet  to 
come!  Balsam-Scented,  with  the  pulse  of 
bells,  how  the  senses  sing!  Memories 
that  wouldn't  have  batted  an  eye  for  all 
the  Gabriel  Trumpets  in  Eternity  leap- 
ing to  life  at  the  sound  of  a  twopenny 
[53] 


Peace  on  Earth 


horn!  Merry  Folk  who  were  with  us 
once  and  are  no  more!  Dream  Folk 
who  have  never  been  with  us  yet  but  will 
be  some  time!  Ache  of  old  carols!  Zest 
of  new-fangled  games!  Flavor  of  pud- 
dings! Shine  of  silver  and  glass!  The 
pleasant  frosty  smell  of  the  Express- 
man! The  Gift  Beautiful!  The  Gift 
Dutiful!  The  Gift  that  Didn't  Come! 
Heigho!  Manger  and  Toy-Shop, — 
Miracle  and  Mirth, — 

"Glisten  and  Tears, 
LAUGH   at   the  years!" 

Thafs  Christmas! 

Flame  Nourice  certainly  was  willing 
to  laugh  at  the  years.  Eighteen  usually 
is! 

Waking  at  Dawn  two  single  thoughts 
consumed  her, — the  Lay  Reader,  and 
[54] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


the  bumpiest  of  the  express  packages 
downstairs. 

The  Lay  Reader's  name  was  Ber- 
trand. "Bertrand  the  Lay  Reader," 
Flame  always  called  him.  The  rest  of 
the  Parish  called  him  Mr.  Laurello. 

It  was  the  thought  of  Bertrand  the 
Lay  Reader  that  made  Flame  laugh 
the  most. 

"As  long  as  I've  promised  most  faith- 
fully not  to  see  him,"  she  laughed,  "how 
can  I  possibly  go  to  church?  For  the 
first  Christmas  in  my  life,"  she  laughed, 
"I  won't  have  to  go  to  church!" 

With  this  obligation  so  cheerfully  can- 
celed, the  exploration  of  the  bumpiest 
express  package  loomed  definitely  as  the 
next  task  on  the  horizon. 

Hoping  for  a  fur  coat  from  her 
Father,  fearing  for  a  set  of  encyclope- 
[55] 


Peace  on  Earth 


dias  from  her  Mother,  she  tore  back  the 
wrappings  with  eager  hands  only  to  find, 
— all-astonished,  and  half  a-scream, — a 
gay,  gauzy  layer  of  animal  masks  nosing 
interrogatively  up  at  her.  Less  practical 
surely  than  the  fur  coat, — more  amus- 
ing, certainly,  than  encyclopedias, — the 
funny  "false  faces"  grinned  up  at  her 
with  a  curiously  excitative  audacity. 
Where  from? — No  identifying  card! 
What  for?  No  conceivable  clew! — Un- 
less perhaps  just  on  general  principles 
a  donation  for  the  Sunday  School 
Christmas  Tree? — But  there  wasn't  go- 
ing to  be  any  tree!  Tentatively  she 
reached  into  the  box  and  touched  the 
fiercely  striped  face  of  a  tiger,  the  fan- 
tastically exaggerated  beak  of  a  red  and 
green  parrot.  "U-m-m-m,"  mused  Flame. 
"Whatever  in  the  world  shall  I  do  with 
[56] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


them?"  Then  quite  abruptly  she 
back  on  her  heek  and  began  to  laugh 
and  laugh  and  laugh,  Even  the  Lay 
Reader  had  not  received  such  a  laugh- 
ing. But  even  to  herself  she  did  not 
say  just  what  she  was  laughing  at.  It 
was  a  time  for  deeds,  it  would  seem,  and 
not  for  words. 

Certainly  the  morning  waa  very  full 
of  deeds! 

There  was,  of  course,  a  pi  eat1  nt  from 
her  Mother  to  be  opened,— warm,  woolly 
•  stockings  and  things  like  that.  But  no 
one  was  erer  swerved  from  an  original 
purpose  by  trying  on  warm,  woolly  stock- 
ings. And  from  her  Father  there 
tiie  most  absurd  little  box  no 
than  yu«kr  nose  marked.  "For  a  week  in 
Xew  York,"  and  staffed  to  the  brim 
with  the  sweetest  bright  green  doll&r 
[67] 


Peace  on  Earth 


bills.  But,  of  course,  you  couldn't  try 
those  on.  And  half  the  Parish  sent  pres- 
ents. But  no  Parish  ever  sent  presents 
that  needed  to  be  tried  on.  No  gay, 
fluffy  scarfs, — no  lacey,  frivolous  petti- 
skirts, — no  bright  delaying  hat-ribbons! 
Just  books, — illustrated  poems  usually, 
very  wholesome  pickles, — and  always  a 
huge  motto  to  recommend,  "Peace  on 
Earth,  Good  Will  to  Men."— To  "Men"? 
— Why  not  to  Women? — Why  not  at 
least  to  Dogs?"  questioned  Flame  quite 
abruptly. 

Taken  all  in  all  it  was  not  a  Christ- 
mas Morning  of  sentiment  but  a  Christ- 
mas morning  of  works!  Kitchen  works, 
mostly!  Useful,  flavorous  adventures 
with  a  turkey!  A  somewhat  nervous 
sally  with  an  apple  pie!  Intermittently, 
of  course,  a  few  experiments  with 
[58] 


I 

Good  Will  to  Dogs 


flour  paste!  A  flaire  or  two  with  a  paint 
brush  I  An  errand  to  the  attic!  Inter- 
minable giggles! 

Surely  it  was  four  o'clock  before  she 
was  even  ready  to  start  for  the  Rattle- 
Pane  House.  And  "starting"  is  by  no 
means  the  same  as  arriving.  Dragging  a 
sledful  of  miscellaneous  Christmas  goods 
an  eighth  of  a  mile  over  bare  ground  is  not 
an  easy  task.  She  had  to  make  three 
tugging  trips.  And  each  start  was  de- 
layed by  her  big  gray  pussy  cat  stealing 
out  to  try  to  follow  her.  And  each  ar- 
rival complicated  by  the  yelpings  and 
leapings  and  general  cavortings  of  four 
dogs  who  didn't  see  any  reason  in  the 
world  why  they  shouldn't  escape  from 
their  forced  imprisonment  in  the  shed- 
yard  and  prance  home  with  her.  Even 
with  the  third  start  and  the  third  ar- 
[59] 


Peace  on  Earth 


rival  finally  accomplished,  the  crafty  cat 
stood  waiting  for  her  on  the  steps  of  the 
Rattle-Pane  House, — back  arched,  fur 
bristled,  spitting  like  some  new  kind  of 
weather-cock  at  the  storm  in  the  shed- 
yard,  and  had  to  be  thrust  quite  uncere- 
moniously into  a  much  too  small  covered 
basket  and  lashed  down  with  yards  and 
yards  of  tinsel  that  was  needed  quite 
definitely  for  something  else. — It  isn't 
just  the  way  of  the  Transgressor  that's 
hard. — Nobody's  way  is  any  too  easy! 

The  door-key,  though,  was  exactly 
where  the  old  Butler  had  said  it  would 
be, — under  the  door  mat,  and  the  key 
itself  turned  astonishingly  cordially  in 
the  rusty  old  lock.  Never  in  her  whole 
little  life  having  owned  a  door-key  to  her 
own  house  it  seemed  quite  an  adventure 
in  itself  to  be  walking  thus  possessively 
£60] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


through  an  unfamiliar  hall  into  an  abso- 
lutely unknown  kitchen  and  goodness 
knew  what  on  either  side  and  beyond. 

Perfectly  simply  too  as  the  old  Butler 
had  promised,  the  four  dog  dishes,  heap- 
ing to  the  brim,  loomed  in  prim  line  upon 
the  kitchen  table  waiting  for  distribu- 
tion. 

"U-m-m,"  sniffed  Flame.  "Nothing 
but  mush!  Mush! — All  over  the  world 
to-day  I  suppose — while  their  masters 
are  feasting  at  other  people's  houses  on 
puddings  and — and  cigarettes!  How 
the  poor  darlings  must  suffer!  Locked 
in  sheds!  Tied  in  yards!  Stuffed  down 
cellar!'* 

"Me-o-w,"  twinged  a  plaintive  hint 
from  the  hallway  just  outside. 

"Oh,  but  cats  are  different,"  argued 
Flame.  "So  soft,  so  plushy,  so  spine- 
[611 


Peace  on  Earth 


less !  Cats  were  meant  to  be  stuffed  into 
things." 

Without  further  parleying  she  doffed 
her  red  tarn  and  sweater,  donned  a  huge 
white  all-enveloping  pinafore,  and  started 
to  ameliorate  as  best  she  could  the 
Christmas  sufferings  of  the  "poor  dar- 
lings" immediately  at  hand. 

It  was  at  least  a  yellow  kitchen, — or 
had  been  once.  In  all  that  gray,  dank, 
neglected  house,  the  one  suggestion  of 
old  sunshine. 

"We  shall  have  our  dinner  here," 
chuckled  Flame.  "After  the  carols— we 
shall  have  our  dinner  here." 

Very  boisterously  in  the  yard  just  out- 
side the  window  the  four  dogs  scuffled 
and  raced  for  sheer  excitement  and  joy 
at  this  most  unexpected  advent  of  hu- 
man companionship.  Intermittently 
[62] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


from  time  to  time  by  the  aid  of  old  boxes 
or  barrels  they  clawed  their  way  up  to 
the  cobwebby  window-sill  to  peer  at  the 
strange  proceedings.  Intermittently 
from  time  to  time  they  fell  back  into  the 
frozen  yard  in  a  chaos  of  fur  and  yelps. 

By  five  o'clock  certainly  the  faded  yel- 
low kitchen  must  have  looked  very 
strange,  even  to  a  dog! 

Straight  down  its  dingy,  wobbly- 
floored  center  stretched  a  long  table 
cheerfully  spread  with  "the  Rev.  Mrs. 
Flarnande  Xourice's"  second  best  table 
cloth.  Quaint  high-backed  chairs 
dragged  in  from  the  shadowy  parlor  cir- 
cled the  table.  A  pleasant  china  plate 
gleamed  like  a  hand-painted  moon  before 
each  chair.  At  one  end  of  the  table 
loomed  a  big  brown  turkey;  at  the  other, 
the  appropriate  vegetables.  Pies,  cakes, 
[63] 


Peace  on  Earth 


and  doughnuts,  interspersed  themselves 
between.  Green  wreaths  streaming  with 
scarlet  ribbons  hung  nonchalantly  across 
every  chair-top.  Tinsel  garlands  shone 
on  the  walls.  In  the  doorway  reared  a 
hastily  constructed  mimicry  of  a  railroad 
crossing  sign. 


00 

^ 
o 


Christmas  Crossing 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


Directly  opposite  and  conspicuously 
placed  above  the  rusty  stove-pipe 
stretched  the  Parish's  Gift  Motto— duly 
re-adjusted. 

"Peace  on  Earth,  Good  Will  to  Dog*." 

"Fatuously  silly,"  admitted  Flame  even 
to  herself.  "But  yet  it  does  add  some- 
thing to  the  Gayety  of  Rations !" 

Stepping  aside  for  a  single  thrilling 
moment  to  study  the  full  effect  of  her 
handiwork,  the  first  psychological  puz- 
zle of  her  life  smote  sharply  across  her 
senses.  Namely,  that  you  never  really 
get  the  whole  fun  out  of  anything  un- 
less you  are  absolutely  alone. — But  the 
very  first  instant  you  find  yourself  abso- 
lutely alone  with  a  Really-Good-Time 
you  begin  to  twist  and  turn  and  hunt 
[65] 


Peace  on  Earth 


about  for  somebody  Very  Special  to  share 
it  with  you! 

The  only  "Very  Special"  person  that 
Flame  could  think  of  was  "Bertrand  the 
Lay  Reader." 

All  a-blush  with  the  sheer  mental  sur- 
prise of  it  she  fled  to  the  shed  door  to 
summon  the  dogs. 

"Maybe  even  the  dogs  won't  come!" 
she  reasoned  hectically.  "Maybe  noth- 
ing will  come!  Maybe  that's  always  the 
way  things  happen  when  you  get  your 
own  way  about  something  else!" 

Like  a  blast  from  the  Arctic  the 
Christmas  twilight  swept  in  on  her.  It 
crisped  her  cheeks, — crinkled  her  hair! 
Turned  her  spine  to  a  wisp  of  tinsel! 
All  outdoors  seemed  suddenly  creaking 
with  frost!  All  indoors,  with  unknown- 
ness! 

[66] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


"Come,  Beautiful-Lovely!"  she  im- 
plored. "Come,  Lopsy!  Miss  Flora! 
Come,  Bhinder-Blotr* 

But  there  was  really  no  need  of  en- 
treaty. A  turn  of  the  door-knob  would 
have  brought  them!  Leaping,  loping, 
four  abreast,  they  came  ffca^fog  like 
so  many  Xorth  Winds  to  their  party! 
Streak  of  Snow, — Glow  of  Fire, — Frozen 
Mud —  Sun-Spot! —  Yelping-mouthed — 
slapping- tailed!  Backs  bristling!  Legs 
stiffening!  Wolf  Hound,  Setter,  Bull 
Dog,  Dalmatian, — each  according  to  his 
Iciinlj  hurtling,  crowding! 

"Oh,  dear  me,  dear  me,"  struggled 
Flame.  "Maybe  a  carol  would  calm 
them." 

To  a  certain  extent  a  carol  surely  did. 
The  hair-cloth  parlor  of  the  Rattle-Pane 
House  would  have  calmed  anything.  And 
[87] 


Peace  on  Earth 


the  mousey  smell  of  the  old  piano  fairly 
jerked  the  dogs  to  its  senile  old  ivory 
key-board.  Cocking  their  ears  to  its 
quavering  treble  notes, — snorting  their 
nostrils  through  its  gritty  guttural 
basses,  they  watched  Flame's  facile  fin- 
gers sweep  from  sound  to  sound. 

"Oh,  what  a — glorious  lark!"  quivered 
Flame.  "What  a — a  lonely  glorious 
lark!" 

Timidly  at  first  but  with  an  increasing 
abandon,  half  laughter  and  half  tears, 
the  clear  young  soprano  voice  took  up 
its  playful  paraphrase, 

"God  rest  you  merrie — animals! 
Let  nothing  you  dismay!" 

caroled  Flame. 

**T? 

It  was  just  at  this  moment  that  Beau- 
tiful-Lovely,  the   Wolf   Hound, — muz- 
[68] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


zled  lifted,  eyes  rolling,  jabbed  his  shrill 
nose  into  space  and  harmony  with  a 
carol  of  his  own, — octaves  of  agony, — 
Heaven  knows  what  of  ecstasy, — that 
would  have  hurried  an  owl  to  its  nest, 
a  ghoul  to  a  moving  picture  show! 

"Wow-Wow—  Wow!"  caroled  Beau- 
tiful-Lovely. "Ww  —  ow — Ww — ow — 
Ww — Oo — WwwuxcF 

As  Flame's  hands  dropped  from  the 
piano  the  unmistakable  creak  of  red 
wheels  sounded  on  the  frozen  driveway 
just  outside. 

No  one  but  "Bertrand  the  Lay  Read- 
er" drove  a  buggy  with  red  wheels!  To 
the  infinite  scandalization  of  the  Parish 
— no  one  but  "Bertrand  the  Lay  Reader" 
drove  a  buggy  with  red  wheels! — Fleet 
steps  sounded  suddenly  on  the  path! 
Startled  fists  beat  furiously  on  the  door! 
[69] 


Peace  on  Earth 


"What  is  it?  What  is  it?"  shouted 
a  familiar  voice.  "Whatever  in  the 
world  is  happening?  Is  it  murder?  Let 
me  in!  Let  me  in!" 

"Sil— ly!"  hissed  Flame  through  a 
crack  in  the  door.  "It's  nothing  but  a 
party!  Don't  you  know  a — a  party  when 
you  hear  it?" 

For  an  instant  only,  blank  silence 
greeted  her  confidence.  Then  "Bertrand 
the  Lay  Reader"  relaxed  in  an  indis- 
putably genuine  gasp  of  astonishment. 

"Why!  Why,  is  that  you,  Miss  Flame?" 
he  gasped.  "Why,  I  thought  it  was  a 
murder!  Why — Why,  whatever  in  the 
world  are  you  doing  here?" 

"I — I'm  having  a  party,"  hissed  Flame 
through  the  key-hole. 

"A — a — party?"  stammered  the  Lay 
Reader,    "Open  the  door!" 
[70] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


"No,  I— can't,"  said  Flame. 

"Why  not?"  demanded  the  Lay 
Reader. 

Helplessly  in  the  darkness  of  the  ves- 
tibule Flame  looked  up, — and  down, — 
and  sideways, — but  met  always  in  every 
direction  the  memory  of  her  promise. 

"I— I  just  can't,"  she  admitted  a  bit 
weakly.  "It  wouldn't  be  convenient. — 
I — I've  got  trouble  with  my  eyes." 

"Trouble  with  your  eyes?"  questioned 
the  Lay  Reader. 

"I  didn't  go  away  with  my  Father 
and  Mother,"  confided  Flame. 

"No, — so  I  notice,"  observed  the  Lay 
Reader.  "Please  open  the  door!" 

"Why?"  parried  Flame. 

"I've  been  looking  for  you  every- 
where," urged  the  Lay  Reader.  "At  the 
Senior  Warden's!  At  all  the  Vestry- 
[Tl] 


Peace  on  EartH 


men's  houses!  Even  at  the  Sexton's!  I 
knew  you  didn't  go  away!  The  Garage 
Man  told  me  there  were  only  two! — I 
thought  surely  I'd  find  you  at  your  own 
Jiouse. — But  I  only  found  sled  tracks/' 

"That  was  me, — I,"  mumbled  Flame. 

"And  then  I  heard  these  awful 
screams,"  shuddered  the  Lay  Reader. 

"That  was  a  Carol,"  said  Flame. 

"A  Carol?"  scoffed  the  Lay  Reader. 
"Open  the  door!" 

"Well — just  a  crack,"  conceded 
Flame. 

It  was  astonishing  how  a  man  as 
broad-shouldered  as  the  Lay  Reader 
could  pass  so  easily  through  a  crack. 

Conscience-sticken  Flame  fled  before 
him  with  her  elbow  crooked  across  her 
forehead. 

"Oh,  my  eyes!  My  eyes!"  she  cried. 
.[72] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


"Well,  realty,"  puzzled  the  Lay 
Reader.  "Though  I  claim,  of  course, 
to  be  ordinarily  bright — I  had  never  sus- 
pected myself  of  being  actually  daz- 
zling." 

"Oh,  you're  not  bright  at  all,"  pro- 
tested Flame.  "It's  just  my  promise. — 
I  promised  Mother  not  to  see  youT 

"Not  to  see  me?"  questioned  the  Lay 
Reader.  It  was  astonishing  how  almost 
instantaneously  a  man  as  purely  the- 
oretical as  the  Lay  Reader  was  supposed 
to  be,  thought  of  a  perfectly  practical  so- 
lution to  the  difficulty.  "Why— why  we 
might  tie  my  big  handkerchief  across 
your  eyes,"  he  suggested.  "Just  till  we 
get  this  mystery  straightened  out. — 
Surely  there  is  nothing  more  or  less  than 
just  plain  righteousness  in — that!" 

"What  a  splendid  ideaP  capitulated 
[73] 


Peace  on  Earth 


Flame.  "But,  of  course,  if  I'm  abso- 
lutely blindfolded,"  she  wavered  for  a 
second  only,  "you'll  have  to  lead  me  by 
the  hand." 

"I  could  do  that,"  admitted  the  Lay 
Reader. 

With  the  big  white  handkerchief  once 
tied  firmly  across  her  eyes,  Flame's  last 
scruple  vanished. 

"Well,  you  see,"  she  began  quite  pre- 
cipitously, "I  did  think  it  would  be  such 
fun  to  have  a  party! — A  party  all  my 
own,  I  mean! — A  party  just  exactly  as 
I  wanted  it!  No  Parish  in  it  at  all!  Or 
good  works!  Or  anything!  Just  fun! — 
And  as  long  as  Mother  and  Father  had 

to  go  away  anjrway "  Even  though 

the   blinding  bandage   the    young    eyes 

seemed  to  lift  in  a  half  wistful  sort  of 

appeal.     "You  see  there's  some  sort  of 

[74] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


property  involved,"  she  confided  quite 
impulsively.  "Uncle  Wally's  making  a 
new  wiD.  There's  a  corn-barn  and  a 
private  chapel  and  a  collection  of  Chi- 
nese lanterns  and  a  piebald  pony  prin- 
cipally under  dispute. — Mother,  of 
course  thinks  we  ought  to  have  the  corn- 
barn.  But  Father  can't  decide  between 
the  Chinese  lanterns  and  the  private 
chapeL— Personally,"  she  sighed,  Tin 
hoping  for  the  piebald  pony." 

"Yes,  but  this— partyf  prodded  the 
Lay  Reader. 

"Oh,  yes,— the  party "  quickened 

Flame. 

"Why  have  it  in  a  deserted  houser 
questioned  the  Lay  Reader  with  some 


Even  with  her  eyes  closely  bandaged 
could  see  perfectly  dearly  that 

[75] 


Peace  on  Earth 


the  Lay  Reader  was  really  quite  trou- 
bled. 

"Oh,  but  you  see  it  isn't  exactly  a  de- 
serted house,"  she  explained. 

"Who  lives  here?"  demanded  the  Lay 
Reader. 

"I  don't  know — exactly,"  admitted 
Flame.  "But  the  Butler  is  a  friend  of 
mine  and " 

"The— Butler  is  a  friend  of  yours?" 
gasped  the  Lay  Reader.  Already,  if 
Flame  could  only  have  seen  it,  his  head 
was  cocked  with  sudden  intentness  to- 
wards the  parlor  door.  "There  is  cer- 
tainly something  very  strange  about  all 
this,"  he  whispered  a  bit  hectically.  "I 
could  almost  have  sworn  that  I  heard  a 
faint  scuffle, — the  horrid  sound  of  a  per- 
son— strangling." 

"Strangling?"  giggled  Flame.  "Oh, 
[76] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


that  is  just  the  sound  of  Miss  Flora's 
'girlish  glee'!  If  she'd  only  be  content 
to  chew  the  corner  of  the  piano  cover! 
But  when  she  insists  on  inhaling  it,  too!" 

"Miss  Flora?"  gasped  the  Lay  Reader. 
"Is  this  a  Mad  House  r 

"Miss  Flora  is  a — a  dog,"  confided 
Flame  a  bit  coolly.  "I  neglected— it 
seems — to  state  that  this  is  a  dog-party 
that  I'm  having." 

"Dogs?"  winced  the  Lay  Reader. 
"Will  they  biter* 

"Only  if  you  don't  trust  them,"  con- 
fided Flame. 

"But  it's  so  hard  to  trust  a  dog  that 
will  bite  you  if  you  don't  trust  him," 
frowned  the  Lay  Reader.  "It  makes 
such  a  sort  of  a — a  vicious  circle,  as  it 
were." 

"Vicious  Circe?"  mused  Flame,  a  bit 
[77] 


Peace  on  Earth 


absent-mindedly.  "No,  I  don't  think  it's 
nice  at  all  to  call  Miss  Flora  a  'Vicious 
Circe.'  ''  It  was  Flame's  turn  now  to 
wince  back  a  little.  "I — I  hate  people 
who  hate  dogs!"  she  cried  out  quite 
abruptly. 

"Oh,  I  don't  hate  them,"  lied  the  Lay 
Reader  like  a  gentleman,  "it's  only  that 

— that .  You  see  a  dog  bit  me  once!" 

he  confided  with  significant  emphasis. 

"I — bit  a  dentist — once,"  mused  Flame 
without  any  emphasis  at  all. 

"Oh,  but  I  say,  Miss  Flame,"  depre- 
cated the  Lay  Reader.  "That's  differ- 
ent! When  a  dog  bites  you,  you  know, 
there's  always  more  or  less  question 
whether  he  was  mad  or  not." 

"There  doesn't  seem  to  have  been  any 
question  at  all,"  mused  Flame,  "that  you 
[78] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


were  mad!  Did  you  have  your  head  sent 
off  to  be  investigated  or  anything?" 

"Oh,  I  say,  Miss  Flame,"  implored  the 
Lay  Reader,  "I  tell  you  I  Uke  dogs,— 
good  dogs!  I  assure  you  I'm  very — oh, 
very  much  interested  in  this  dog  party  of 

yours!  Such  a  quaint  idea!  So — so ! 

If  I  could  be  of  any  possible  assistance f* 
he  implored. 

"Maybe  you  could  be,"  relaxed  Flame 
ever  so  faintly.  "But  if  you're  really 
coming  to  my  party,"  she  stiffened  again, 
"you've  got  to  behave  like  my  party T 

"Why,  of  course  111  behave  like  your 
partyP'  laughed  the  Lay  Reader. 

"There  i*  a  problem,"  admitted  Flame. 
"Five  problems,  to  be  perfectly  accurate. 
— Four  dogs,  and  a  cat  in  the  wood- 
shed." 


Peace  on  Earth 


"And  a  cat  in  the  wood-shed?"  echoed 
the  Lay  Reader  quite  idiotically. 

"The  table  is  set,"  affirmed  Flame. 
"The  places,  all  ready! — But  I  don't 
know  how  to  get  the  dogs  into  their 
chairs! — They  run  around  so!  They 
yelp!  They  jump! — They  haven't  had  a 
mouthful  to  eat,  you  see,  since  last  night, 
this  time! — And  when  they  once  see  the 
turkey  I'm — I'm  afraid  they'll  stampede 
it." 

"Turkey?"  quizzed  the  Lay  Reader 
who  had  dined  that  day  on  corned  beef. 

"Oh,  of  course,  mush  was  what  they 
were  intended  to  have,"  admitted  Flame. 
"Piles  and  piles  of  mush !  Extra  piles  and 
piles  of  mush  I  should  judge  because  it 
was  Christmas  Day!  .  .  .  But  don't  you 
think  mush  does  seem  a  bit  dull?"  she 
questioned  appealingly.  "For  Christmas 
[80] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


Day?  Oh,  I  did  think  a  turkey  would 
taste  so  good!" 

"It  certainly  would,"  conceded  the  Lay 
Reader. 

"So  if  you'd  help  me "  wheedled 

Flame,  "it  would  be  well-worth  staying 
blindfolded  for.  .  .  .  For,  of  course,  I 
shall  have  to  stay  blindfolded.  But  I 
can  see  a  little  of  the  floor,"  she  admitted, 
"though  I  couldn't  of  course  break  my 
promise  to  my  Mother  by  seeing  you." 

"No,  certainly  not,"  admitted  the  Lay 
Reader. 

"Otherwise "     murmured     Flame 

with  a  faint  gesture  towards  the  door. 

"I  will  help  you,"  said  the  Lay  Reader. 

"Where  is  your  hand?"  fumbled  Flame. 

"Here!"  attested  the  Lay  Reader. 

"Lead  us  to  the  dogs!"  commanded 
Flame. 

[81] 


Peace  on  Earth 


Now  the  Captain  of  a  ship  feels  genu- 
inely obligated,  it  would  seem,  to  go  down 
with  his  ship  if  tragic  circumstances  so 
insist.  But  he  never, — so  far  as  I've  ever 
heard,  felt  the  slightest  obligation  what- 
soever to  go  down  with  another  captain's 
ship, — to  be  martyred  in  short  for  any 
job  not  distinctly  his  own.  So  Bertrand 
Lorello, — who  for  the  cause  he  served, 
wouldn't  have  hesitated  an  instant  prob- 
ably, to  be  torn  by  Hindoo  lions, — de- 
voured by  South  Sea  cannibals, — fallen 
upon  by  a  chapel  spire, — trampled  to 
death  even  at  a  church  rummage  sale, — 
saw  no  conceivable  reason  at  the  moment 
for  being  eaten  by  dogs  at  a  purely  social 
function. 

Even  groping  through  a  balsam- 
scented  darkness  with  one  hand  clasping 
[82] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


the  thrifly  fingers  of  a  lovely  young  girl, 
this  distaste  did  not  altogether  leave  him. 

"This — this  mush  that  you  speak  of  T 
he  questioned  quite  abruptly.  "With  the 
dogs  as — as  nervous  as  you  say, — so  un- 
fortunately liable  to  stampede?  Don't 
you  think  that  perhaps  a  little  mush 
served  first, — a  good  deal  of  mush  I 
would  say,  served  first, — might  act  as  a — 
as  a  sort  of  anesthetic?  .  .  .  Somewhere 
in  the  past  I  am  almost  sure  I  have  read 
that  mush  in  sufficient  quantities,  you 
understand,  is  really  quite  a- — quite  an 
anesthetic." 

Very  palpably  in  the  darkness  he  heard 
a  single  throaty  swallow. 

"Lead  us  to  the— mush,"  said  Flame. 

In  another  instant  the  door-knob 
turned  in  his  hand,  and  the  cheerful 
[83] 


Peace  on  Earth 


kitchen  lamp-light, — glitter  of  tinsel, — 
flare  of  red  ribbons, — savor  of  foods, 
smote  sharply  on  him. 

"Oh,  I  say,  how  jolly!"  cried  the  Lay 
Reader. 

"Don't  let  me  bump  into  anything!" 
begged  the  blindfolded  Flame,  still  hold- 
ing tight  to  his  hand. 

"Oh,  I  say,  Miss  Flame,"  kindled  the 
entranced  Lay  Reader,  "it's  you  that  look 
the  j oiliest!  All  in  white  that  way!  I've 
never  seen  you  wear  that  to  church,  have 
I?" 

"This  is  a  pinafore,"  confided  Flame 
coolly.  "A  bungalow  apron,  the  fashion 
papers  call  it.  ...  No,  you've  never  seen 
me  wear — this  to  church." 

"O— h,"  said  the  Lay  Reader. 

"Get  the  mush,"  said  Flame. 

"The  what?"  asked  the  Lay  Reader. 
[84] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


"It's  there  on  the  table  by  the  window," 
gestured  Flame.  "Please  set  all  four 
dishes  on  the  floor, — each  dish,  of  course, 
in  a  separate  corner,"  ordered  Flame. 
"There  is  a  reason.  .  .  .  And  then  open 
the  parlor  door." 

"Open  the  parlor  door?"  questioned  the 
Lay  Reader.  It  was  no  mere  gram- 
matical form  of  speech  but  a  real  query 
in  the  Lay  Reader's  mind. 

"Well,  maybe  I'd  better,"  conceded 
Flame.  "Lead  me  to  it" 

Roused  into  frenzy  by  the  sound  of  a 
stranger's  step,  a  stranger's  voice,  the 
four  dogs  fumed  and  seethed  on  the  other 
side  of  the  panel. 

"Sniff— Sniff— Snortr  the  Red  Setter 
sucked  at  the  crack  in  the  door. 

"Woof!  Woof!  Woofr  roared  the 
big  Wolf  Hound. 

[85] 


Peace  on  Earth 


"Slam!  Bang!  Slash!"  slapped  the 
Dalmatian's  crisp  weight. 

"Yi!    Yi!    Yi!"  sang  the  Bull  Dog. 

"Hush!  Hmh,  Dogs!"  implored  Flame. 
"This  is  Father's  Lay  Reader!" 

"Your — Lay  Reader!"  contradicted  the 
young  man  gallantly.  It  was  pretty 
gallant  of  him,  wasn't  it?  Considering 
everything? 

In  another  instant  four  shapes  with 
teeth  in  them  came  hurtling  through! 

If  Flame  had  never  in  her  life  admired 
the  Lay  Reader  she  certainly  would  have 
admired  him  now  for  the  sheer  cold- 
blooded foresight  which  had  presaged  the 
inevitable  reaction  of  the  dogs  upon  the 
mush  and  the  mush  upon  the  dogs.  With 
a  single  sniff  at  his  heels,  a  prod  of  paws 
in  his  stomach,  the  onslaught  swerved — 
[86] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


and  passed.  Guzzlingly  from  four  sepa- 
rate corners  of  the  room  issued  sounds  of 
joy  and  fulfillment 

With  an  impulse  quite  surprising  even 
to  herself  Flame  thrust  both  hands  into 
the  Lay  Reader's  clasp. 

"You  are  nice,  aren't  you?"  she  quick- 
ened. In  an  instant  of  weakness  one  hand 
crept  up  to  the  blinding  bandage,  and 
recovered  its  honor  as  instantly.  "Oh,  I 
do  wish  I  could  see  you,"  sighed  Flame. 
"You're  «o  good-looking!  Even  Mother 
thinks  you're  «o  good-looking!  .  .  . 
Though  she  does  get  awfully  worked  up, 
of  course,  about  your  'amorous  eyes'!" 

"Does  your  Mother  think  I've  got  ... 

'amorous  eyes'?"  asked  the  Lay  Reader 

a  bit  tersely.    Behind  his  spectacles  as  he 

spoke  the  orbs  in  question  softened  and 

[87] 


Peace  on  Earth 


glowed  like  some  rare  exotic  bloom  under 
glass.  "Does  your  Mother  .  . .  think 
I've  got  amorous  eyes?" 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Flame. 

"And  your  Father?"  drawled  the  Lay 
Reader. 

"Why,  Father  says  of  course  you've  got 
'amorous  eyes'!"  confided  Flame  with  the 
faintest  possible  tinge  of  surprise  at  even 
being  asked  such  a  question.  "That's 
the  funny  thing  about  Mother  and 
Father,"  chuckled  Flame.  "They're 
always  saying  the  same  thing  and  mean- 
ing something  entirely  different  by  it. 
Why,  when  Mother  says  with  her  mouth 
all  pursed  up,  'I  have  every  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  Mr.  Lorello  is  engaged  to  the 
daughter  of  the  Rector  in  his  former 
Parish,'  Father  just  puts  back  his  head 
and  howls,  and  says,  'Why,  of  course,  Mr. 
[88] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


Lorello  is  engaged  to  the  daughter  of  the 
Rector  in  his  former  Parish!  All  Lay 
Readers  .  .  ." 

In  the  sudden  hush  that  ensued  a  faint 
sense  of  uneasiness  flickered  through 
Flame's  shoulders. 

"Is  it  you  that  have  hushed?  Or  the 
dogs?"  she  asked. 

"The  dogs,"  said  the  Lay  Reader. 

Very  cautiously,  absolutely  honorably, 
Flame  turned  her  back  to  the  Lay  Reader, 
and  lifted  the  bandage  just  far  enough 
to  prove  the  Lay  Reader's  assertion. 

Bulging  with  mush  the  four  dogs  lay 
at  rest  on  rounding  sides  with  limp  legs 
straggling,  or  crouched  like  lions'  heads 
on  paws,  with  limpid  eyes  blinking  above 
yawny  mouths. 

"O — h,"  crooned  Flame.  "How  sweet ! 
Only,  of  course,  with  what's  to  follow," 
[89] 


Peace  on  Earth 


she  regretted  thriftily,  "it's  an  awful  waste 
of  mush.  .  .  .  Excelsior  warmed  in  the 
oven  would  have  served  just  as  well." 

At  the  threat  of  a  shadow  across  her 
eyeball  she  jerked  the  bandage  back  into 
place. 

"Now,  Mr.  Lorello,"  she  suggested 
blithely,  "if  you'll  get  the  Bibles  .  .  ." 

"Bibles?"  stiffened  the  Lay  Reader. 
"Bibles?  Why,  really,  Miss  Flame,  I 
couldn't  countenance  any  sort  of  mock 
service  I  Even  just  for — for  quaintness, 
— even  for  Christmas  quaintness!" 

"Mock  service?"  puzzled  Flame. 
"Bibles?  .  .  ,  Oh,  I  don't  want  you  to 
preach  out  of  'em,"  she  hastened  perfectly 
amiably  to  explain.  "All  I  want  them 
for  is  to  plump-up  the  chairs.  .  .  .  The 
seats  you  see  are  too  low  for  the  dogs. 
.  ,  fe  Oh,  I  suppose  dictionaries  would 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


do,"  she  compromised  reluctantly.  "Only 
dictionaries  are  always  so  scarce." 

Obediently  the  Lay  Reader  raked  the 
parlor  book-cases  for  "plump-upable" 
books.  With  real  dexterity  he  built 
Chemistries  on  Sermons  and  Ancient 
Poems  on  Cook  Books  till  the  desired 
heights  were  reached. 

For  a  single  minute  more  Flame  took 
another  peep  at  the  table. 

"Set  a  chair  for  yourself  directly  oppo- 
site me!"  she  ordered.  For  sheer  hilar- 
ious satisfaction  her  feet  began  to  dance 
and  her  hands  to  clap.  "And  whenever 
I  really  feel  obliged  to  look,"  she 
sparkled,  "you'll  just  have  to  leave  the 
table,  that's  all!  ...  And  now  .  .  .  ?" 
Appraisingly  her  muffled  eye  swept  the 
shining  vista.  "Perfect!"  she  triumphed. 
"Perfect!"  Then  quite  abruptly  the 
[91] 


Peace  on  Earth 


eager  mouth  wilted.  "Why  .  *  .  Why 
I've  forgotten  the  carving  knife  and 
fork!"  she  cried  out  in  real  distress.  "Oh, 
how  stupid  of  me !"  Arduously,  but  with- 
out avail,  she  searched  through  all  the 
drawers  and  cupboards  of  the  Rattle- 
Pane  kitchen.  A  single  alternative  oc- 
curred to  her.  "You'll  have  to  go  over 
to  my  house  and  get  them, — Mr.  Lo- 
rello!"  she  said.  "Were  you  ever  in  my 
kitchen?  Or  my  pantry?" 

"No,"  admitted  the  Lay  Reader. 

"Well,  you'll  have  to  climb  in  through 
the  window — someway,"  worried  Flame. 
"I've  mislaid  my  key  somewhere  here 
among  all  these  dishes  and  boxes.  And 
the  pantry,"  she  explained  very  explicitly, 
"is  the  third  door  on  the  right  as  you 
enter.  ,  •  .  You'll  see  a  chest  of  drawers. 
192] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


Open  the  second  of  'em.  .  .  .  Or  maybe 
you'd  better  look  through  all  of  them. 
.  .  .  Only  please  .  .  .  please  hurry!" 
Imploringly  the  little  head  lifted. 

"If  I  hurry  enough,"  said  the  Lay 
Reader  quite  impulsively,  "may  I  have  a 
kiss  when  I  get  back?" 

"A  kiss?"  hooted  Flame.  In  the  curve 
of  her  cheek  a  dimple  opened  suddenly. 
"Well  .  .  .  maybe,"  said  Flame. 

As  though  the  word  were  wings  the 
Lay  Reader  snatched  his  hat  and  sped 
out  into  the  night. 

It  was  astonishing  how  all  the  warm 
housey  air  seemed  to  rush  out  with  him, 
and  all  the  shivery  frost  rush  back. 

A  little  bit  listlessly  Flame  dragged 
down  the  bandage  from  her  eyes. 

"It  must  be  the  creaks  on  the  stairs 
[98] 


Peace  on  Earth 


that  make  it  so  awfully  lonely  all  of  a 
sudden,"  argued  Flame.  "It  must  be 
because  the  dogs  snore  so.  ...  No  mere 
man  could  make  it  so  empty."  With  a 
precipitous  nudge  of  the  memory  she 
dashed  to  the  door  and  helloed  to  the  fast 
retreating  figure.  "Oh,  Bertrand!  Ber- 
trand!"  she  called,  "I  got  sort  of  mixed 
up.  It's  the  second  door  on  the  left! 
And  if  you  don't  find  'em  there  you'd 
better  go  up  in  Mother's  room  and  turn 
out  the  silver  chest!  Hurry!" 

Rallying  back  to  the  bright  Christmas 
kitchen  for  the  real  business  at  hand,  an 
accusing  blush  rose  to  the  young  spot 
where  the  dimple  had  been. 

"Oh,  Shucks!"  parried  Flame.  "I 
kissed  a  Bishop  before  I  was  five! — 
What's  a  Lay  Reader?"  As  one  hu- 
[94] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


manely  willing  to  condone  the  future  as 
well  as  the  past  she  rolled  up  her  white 
sleeves  without  further  introspection,  and 
dragged  out  from  the  protecting  shadow 
of  the  sink  the  "bumpiest  box"  which  had 
so  excited  her  emotions  at  home  in  an 
earlier  hour  of  the  day.  Cracklingly  under 
her  eager  fingers  the  chimsy  cover  slid 
off,  exposing  once  more  to  her  enrap- 
tured gaze  the  gay-colored  muslin  layer 
of  animal  masks  leering  fatuously  up  at 
her. 

Only  with  her  hand  across  her  mouth 
did  she  keep  from  crying  out.  Very 
swiftly  her  glance  traveled  from  the 
grinning  muslin  faces  before  her  to  the 
solemn  fur  faces  on  the  other  side  of  the 
room.  The  hand  across  her  mouth  tight- 
ened. 

[95] 


Peace  on  Earth 


"Why,  it's  something  like  Creation," 
she  giggled.  "This  having  to  decide  which 
face  to  give  to  which  animal!" 

As  expeditiously  as  possible  she  made 
her  selection. 

"Poor  Miss  Flora  must  be  so  tired  of 
being  so  plain,"  she  thought.  "I'll  give 
her  the  first  choice  of  everything!  Some- 
thing really  lovely!  It  can't  help  resting 
her!" 

With  this  kind  idea  in  mind  she  selected 
for  Miss  Flora  a  canary's  face. — Softly 
yellow!  Bland  as  treacle!  Its  swelling, 
tender  muslin  throat  fairly  reeking  with 
the  suggestion  of  innocent  song!  No  one 
gazing  once  upon  such  ornithological 
purity  would  ever  speak  a  harsh  word 
again,  even  to  a  sparrow! 

Nudging  Miss  Flora  cautiously  from 
her  sonorous  nap,  Flame  beguiled  her 
[96] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


with  half  a  doughnut  to  her  appointed 
chair,  boosted  her  still  cautiously  to  her 
pinnacle  of  books,  and  with  various  swift 
adjustments  of  fasteners,  knotting  of  tie- 
strings, — an  extra  breathing  hole  jabbed 
through  the  beak,  slipped  the  canary's 
beautiful  blond  countenance  over  Miss 
Flora's  frankly  grizzled  mug. 

For  a  single  terrifying  instant  Miss 
Flora's  crinkled  sides  tightened, — a  snarl 
like  ripped  silk  slipped  through  her 
straining  lungs.  Then  once  convinced 
that  the  mask  was  not  a  gas-box  she 
accepted  the  liberty  with  reasonable  sang- 
froid and  sat  blinking  beadily  out 
through  the  canary's  yellow-rimmed  eye- 
sockets  with  frank  curiosity  towards  such 
proceedings  as  were  about  to  follow.  It 
was  easy  to  see  she  was  accustomed  to 
sitting  in  chairs. 

[97] 


Peace  on  Earth 


For  the  Wolf  Hound  Flame  chose  a 
Giraffe's  head.  Certain  anatomical 
similarities  seemed  to  make  the  choice 
wise.  With  a  long  vividly  striped  stock- 
inet neck  wrinkling  like  a  mousquetaire 
glove,  the  neat  small  head  that  so  closely 
fitted  his  own  neat  small  head,  the 
tweaked,  interrogative  ears, — Beautiful- 
Lovely,  the  Wolf  Hound,  reared  up  ma- 
jestically in  his  own  chair.  He  also,  once 
convinced  that  the  mask  was  not  a  gas- 
box,  resigned  himself  to  the  inevitable, 
and  corporeally  independent  of  such  vain 
props  as  Chemistries  or  Sermons,  lolled 
his  fine  height  against  the  mahogany 
chair-back. 

To  Blunder-Blot,  the  trim  Dalmatian, 
Flame  assigned  the  Parrot's  head,  arro- 
gantly   beaked,    gorgeously    variegated, 
altogether  querulous. 
[98] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


For  Lopsy,  the  crafty  Setter,  she  se- 
lected a  White  Rabbit's  artless,  pink- 
eared  visage. 

Yet  out  of  the  whole  box  of  masks  it 
had  been  the  Bengal  Tiger's  fiercely  be- 
whiskered  visage  that  had  fascinated 
Flame  the  most.  Regretfully  from  its 
more  or  less  nondescript  companions,  she 
picked  up  the  Bengal  Tiger  now  and 
pulled  at  its  real,  bristle-whiskers.  In 
one  of  the  chairs  a  dog  stirred  quite  irrele- 
vantly. Cocking  her  own  head  towards 
the  wood-shed  Flame  could  not  be  per- 
fectly sure  whether  she  heard  a  twinge  of 
cat  or  a  twinge  of  conscience.  The  un- 
flinching glare  of  the  Bengal  Tiger  only 
served  to  increase  her  self-reproach. 

"After  all,"  reasoned  Flame,  "it  would 
be  easy  enough  to  set  another  place !  And 
pile  a  few  extra  books!  .  .  .  I'm  almost 
[99] 


Peace  on  Earth 


sure  I  saw  a  black  plush  bag  in  the  parlor. 
...  If  the  cat  could  be  put  in  something 
like  a  black  plush  bag, — something  per- 
fectly enveloping  like  that?  So  that  not 
a  single  line  of  its — its  figure  could  be 
observed?  .  .  .  And  it  had  a  new  head 
given  it?  A  perfectly  sufficient  head — 
like  a  Bengal  Tiger? — I  see  no  reason 

why " 

In  five  minutes  the  deed  was  accom- 
plished. Its  lovely  sinuous  "figure"  re- 
duced to  the  stolid  contour  of  a  black 
plush  work-bag,  its  small  uneasy  head 
thrust  into  the  roomy  muslin  cranium  of 
the  Bengal  Tiger,  the  astonished  Cat 
found  herself  slumping  soggily  on  a  great 
teetering  pile  of  books,  staring  down  as 
best  she  might  through  the  Bengal 
Tiger's  ear  at  the  weirdest  assemblage  of 
animals  which  any  domestic  cat  of  her 
[100] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


acquaintance  had  ever  been  forced  to  con- 
template. 

Coincidental  with  the  appearance  of  the 
Cat  a  faint  thrill  passed  through  the  rest 
of  the  company.  .  .  .  Nothing  very  much! 
No  more,  no  less  indeed,  than  passes 
through  any  company  at  the  introduction 
of  purely  extraneous  matter.  From  the 
empty  plate  which  she  had  commandeered 
as  a  temporary  pillow  the  Yellow  Canary 
lifted  an  interrogative  beak.  .  .  .  That 
was  all!  At  Flame's  left,  the  White- 
Haired  Rabbit  emitted  an  incongruous 
bark.  .  .  .  Scarcely  worth  reporting! 
Across  the  table  the  Giraffe  thumped  a 
white,  plumy  tail.  Thoughtfully  the  Par- 
rot's hooked  nose  slanted  slightly  to  one 
side. 

"Oh,  I  wish  Bertrand  would  come!" 
fretted  Flame.  "Maybe  this  time  he'll 
[101] 


Peace  on  Earth 


notice  my  'Christmas  Crossing'  sign!"  she 
chuckled  with  sudden  triumph.  "Talk 
ahout  surprises!"  Very  diplomatically  as 
she  spoke  she  broke  another  doughnut  in 
two  and  drew  all  the  dogs'  attention  to 
herself.  Almost  hysterical  with  amuse- 
ment she  surveyed  the  scene  before  her. 
"Well,  at  least  we  can  have  'grace'  before 
the  Preacher  comes!"  she  laughed.  A 
step  on  the  gravel  walk  startled  her  sud- 
denly. In  a  flash  she  had  jerked  down 
the  blind-folding  handkerchief  across  her 
eyes  again,  and  folding  her  hands  and  the 
doughnut  before  her  burst  softly  into 
paraphrase. 

'Now  we — sit  us  down  to  eat 
Thrice  our  share  of  Flesh  and  Sweet. 
If  we  should  burst  before  we're  through, 
Oh  what  in — Dogdom  shall  we  do?'" 

Thus  it  was  that  the  Master  of  the 
House,  returning  unexpectedly  to  his  un- 
[102] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


familiar  domicile,  stumbled  upon  a  scene 
that  might  have  shaken  the  reason  of  a 
less  sober  young  man. 

Startled  first  by  the  unwonted  illumi- 
nation from  his  kitchen  windows,  and 
second  by  the  unprecedented  aroma  of 
Fir  Balsam  that  greeted  him  even  through 
the  key-hole  of  his  new  front  door,  his 
feelings  may  well  be  imagined  when  grop- 
ing through  the  dingy  hall  he  first  beheld 
the  gallows-like  structure  reared  in  the 
kitdien  doorway. 

"My  God!"  he  ejaculated,  "Barrett  is 
getting  ready  to  hang  himself!  Gone 
mad  probably — or  something!" 

Curdled  with  horror  he  forced  himself 
to  the  object,  only  to  note  with  convulsive 
relief  but  increasing  bewilderment  the 
cheerful  phrasing  and  ultimate  intent  of 
the  structure  itself.  "  'Christmas  Cross- 
[108] 


Peace  on  Earth 


ing'?"  he  repeated  blankly.  "  'Look  out 

for  Surprises'? 'Shop,  Cook,  and 

Glisten'?"  With  his  hand  across  his  eyes 
he  reeled  back  slightly  against  the  wall. 
"It  is  I  that  have  gone  mad!"  he  gasped. 

A  little  uncertain  whether  he  was 
afraid  of  What-He-Was-About-to-See, 
or  whether  What-He-Was-About-to-See 
ought  to  be  afraid  of  him,  he  craned  his 
neck  as  best  he  could  round  the  corner  of 
the  huge  buffet  that  blocked  the  kitchen 
vista.  A  fresh  bewilderment  met  his  eyes. 
Where  he  had  once  seeoi  cobwebs  flajp- 
ping  grayly  across  the  chimney-breast 
loomed  now  the  gay  worsted  recommen- 
dation that  dogs  specially,  should  be  con- 
sidered in  the  Christmas  Season.  Throw- 
ing all  caution  aside  he  passed  the  buffet 
and  plunged  into  the  kitchen. 

"Oh,  do  hurry!"  cried  an  eager  young 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


voice.    "I  thought  my  hair  would  be  white 
before  you  came!" 

Like  a  man  paralyzed  he  stopped  short 
in  his  tracks  to  stare  at  the  scene  before 
him!  The  long,  bright  table!  The  abso- 
lutely formal  food!  A  blindfolded  girl! 
A  perfectly  strange  blindfolded  girl  .  .  . 
with  her  dark  hair  forty  years  this  side 
of  white — begging  him  to  hurry!  ...  A 
Black  Velvet  Bag  surmounted  by  a 
Tiger's  head  stirring  strangely  in  a  chair 
piled  high  with  books!  .  .  .  Seated  next 
to  the  Black  Velvet  Bag  a  Canary  as  big 
as  a  Turkey  Gobbler  !^ ...  A  Giraffe 
stepping  suddenly  forward  with — with 
dog-paws  thrust  into  his  soup  plate!  .  .  . 
A  White  Rabbit  heavily  wreathed  in 
holly  rousing  cautiously  from  his  cush- 
ions! ...  A  Parrot  with  a  twitching 
black  and  white  short-haired  tail!  .  .  . 
[105] 


Peace  on  Earth 


An  empty  chair  facing  the  Girl!  An 
empty  chair  facing  the  Girl! 

"If  this  is  madness"  thought  Delcote 
quite  precipitously,  "I  am  at  least  the 
Master  of  the  Asylum!" 

In  another  instant,  with  a  prodigious 
stride  he  had  slipped  into  the  vacant  seat. 

".  .  .  So  sorry  to  have  kept  you  wait- 
ing," he  murmured. 

At  the  first  sound  of  that  unfamiliar 
voice,  Flame  yanked  the  handkerchief 
from  her  eyes,  took  one  blank  glance  at 
the  Stranger,  and  burst  forth  into  a 
muffled,  but  altogether  blood-curdling 
scream. 

"Oh  ...  Oh  ...  Owwwwwwww!"  said 
the  scream. 

As  though  waiting  only  for  that  one 
signal  to  break  the  spell  of  their  enchant- 
ment, the  Canary  leaped  upward  and 
[106] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


grabbed  the  Bengal  Tiger  by  bis  muslin 
nose,— tbe  White  Rabbit  sprang  to 
"point"  on  the  cooling  turkey,  and  the 
Red  and  Green  Parrot  fell  to  the  floor  in 
a  desperate  effort  to  settle  once  and  for 
all  with  the  black  spot  that  itched  so  im- 
pulsively on  his  left  shoulder! 

For  a  moment  only,  in  comparative 
quiet,  the  Concerned  struggled  with  the 
Concerned.  Then  true  to  all  Dog  Psy- 
chology,— absolutely  indisputable,  abso- 
lutely unalterable,  the  Non-Concerned 
leaped  in  upon  the  Non-Concerned!  Half 
on  his  guard,  but  wholely  on  his  itch,  the 
jostled  Parrot  shot  like  a  catapult  across 
the  floor!  Lost  to  all  sense  of  honor  or 
table-manners  the  benign-faced  Giraffe 
with  his  benign  face  stifl  towering  blandly 
in  the  air,  burst  through  his  own  neck 
with  a  most  curious  anatomical  effect, — 


Peace  on  Earth 


locked  his  teeth  in  the  Parrot's  gay  throat 
and  rolled  with  him  under  the  table  in 
mortal  comhat! 

Round  and  round  the  room  spun  the 
Yellow  Canary  and  the  Black  Plush  Bag! 

Retreating  as  best  she  could  from  her 
muslin  nose, — the  Bengal  Tiger  or  rather 
that  which  was  within  the  Bengal  Tiger, 
waged  her  war  for  Freedom!  Ripping 
like  a  chicken  through  its  shell  she  suc- 
ceeded at  last  in  hatching  one  front  paw 
and  one  hind  paw  into  action.  Wallow- 
ing, — stumbling,  — rolling,  — yowling,  — 
she  humped  from  mantle-piece  to  chair- 
top,  and  from  box  to  table. 

Loyally  the  rabbit-eared  Setter  took 
up  the  chase.  Mauled  in  the  scuffle  he 
ran  with  his  meek  face  upside  down! 
Lost  to  all  reason,  defiant  of  all  morale, 
he  proceeded  to  flush  the  game ! 
[108] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


Dish-pans  clattered,  stools  tipped  over, 
pictures  banged  on  the  walls! 

From  her  terrorized  perch  on  the  back 
of  her  chair  Flame  watched  the  fracas 
with  dilated  eyes. 

Hunched  in  the  hug  of  his  own  arms 
the  Stranger  sat  rocking  himself  to  and 
fro  in  uncontrollable,  choking  mirth, — 
'ribald  mirth"  was  what  Flame  called  it 

"Stop!"  she  begged.  "Stop  it!  Some- 
body stop  itr 

It  was  not  until  the  Black  Plush  Bag 
at  bay  had  ripped  a  red  streak  down  Mi-s 
Flora's  avid  nose  that  the  Stranger  rose 
to  interfere. 

Very  definitely  then,  with  quick  deeds, 
incisive  words,  he  separated  the  immMJi. 
ate  combatants,  and  ordered  the  other 
dogs  into  submission. 

"Here  you,  Demon  Direful F'  he  ad- 
[109] 


Peace  on  Earth 


dressed  the  white  Wolf  Hound.  "Drop 
that,  Orion!"  he  shouted  to  the  Irish  Set- 
ter. "Cut  it  out,  John!"  he  thundered  at 
the  Coach  Dog. 

"Their  names  are  'Beautiful-Lovely'!" 
cried  Flame.  "And  'Lopsy!'  and  'Blun- 
der-Blot!' " 

With  his  hand  on  the  Wolf  Hound's 
collar,  the  Stranger  stopped  and  stared 
up  with  frank  astonishment,  not  to  say 
resentment,  at  the  girl's  interference. 

"Their  names  are  what?"  he  said. 

Something  in  the  special  intonation  of 
the  question  infuriated  Flame.  .  .  .  May- 
be she  thought  his  mouth  scornful, — his 
narrowing  eyes  .  .  .  ?  Goodness  knows 
what  she  thought  of  his  suddenly  narrow- 
ing eyes! 

In  an  instant  she  had  jumped  from  her 
retreat  to  the  floor. 

[1101 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


"Who  are  you,  anyway  V  she  de- 
manded. "How  dare  you  come  here  like 
this?  Butting  into  my  party!  .  .  .  And — 
and  spoiling  my  discipline  with  the  dogs ! 
Who  are  you,  I  say?" 

With  Demon  Direful,  alias  Beautiful- 
Lovely  tugging  wildly  at  his  restraint, 
the  Stranger's  scornful  mouth  turned 
precipitously  up,  instead  of  down. 

"Who  am  I?"  he  said.  "Why,  no  one 
special  at  all  except  just — the  Master 
of  the  House!" 

"What?"  gasped  Flame. 

"Earle  Delcote,"  bowed  the  Stranger. 

With  a  little  hand  that  trembled  per- 
fectly palpably  Flame  reached  back  to 
the  arm  of  the  big  c?rved  chair  for  sup- 
port. 

"Why— why,  but  Mr.  Delcote  is  an 
old  man,"  she  gasped.  "I'm  almost  sure 
he's  an  old  man." 

[in] 


Peace  on  Earth 


The  smile  on  Delcote's  mouth  spread 
suddenly  to  his  eyes. 

"Not  yet —Thank  God!"  he  bowed. 

With  a  panic-stricken  glance  at  doors, 
windows,  cracks,  the  chimney  pipe  itself, 
Flame  sank  limply  down  in  her  seat  again 
and  gestured  towards  the  empty  place 
opposite  her. 

"Have  a — have  a  chair,"  she  stammered. 
Great  tears  welled  suddenly  to  her 
eyes.  "Oh,  I — I  know  I  oughtn't  to  be 
here,"  she  struggled.  'It's  perfectly  .  .  . 
awful!  I  haven't  the  slightest  right!  Not 
the  slightest!  It's  the — the  cheekiest  thing 
that  any  girl  in  the  world  ever  did!  .  .  . 
But  your  Butler  said  .  .  .  !  And  he  did 

so  want  to  go  away  and And  I 

did  so  love  your  dogs !    And  I  did  so  want 

to  make  one  Christmas  in  the  world  just 

— exactly  the  way  I  wanted  it!    And — 

[112] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


and — Mother  and  Father  will  be  crazy  I 
.  .  .  And — and " 

Without  a  single  glance  at  anything 
except  herself,  the  Master  of  the  House 
slipped  back  into  his  chair. 

"Have  a  heart!"  he  said. 

Flame  did  not  accept  this  suggestion. 
With  a  very  severe  frown  and  downcast 
eyes  she  sat  staring  at  the  table.  It 
seemed  a  very  cheerless  table  suddenly, 
with  all  the  dogs  in  various  stages  of  dis- 
heveled finery  grouped  blatantly  around 
their  Master's  chair. 

"I  can  at  least  have  my  cat,"  she 
thought,  "my — faithful  cat!"  In  another 
instant  she  had  slipped  from  the  table, 
extracted  poor  Puss  from  a  clutter  of  pans 
in  the  back  of  a  cupboard,  stripped  the 
last  shred  of  masquerade  from  her  out- 
raged form,  and  brought  her  back  growl- 
[118] 


Peace  on  Earth 


ing  and  bristling  to  perch  on  one  arm  of 
the  high-backed  chair.  "Th— ere!"  said 
Flame. 

Glancing  up  from  this  innocent  tri- 
umph, she  encountered  the  eyes  of  the 
Master  of  the  House  fixed  speculatively 
on  the  big  turkey. 

"I'm  afraid  everything  is  very  cold," 
she  confided  with  distinctly  formal  regret. 

"Not  for  anything,"  laughed  Delcote 
quite  suddenly,  "would  I  have  kept  you 
waiting — if  I  had  only  known." 

Two  spots  of  color  glowed  hotly  in  the 
girl's  cheeks. 

"It  was  not  for  you  I  was  waiting," 
she  said  coldly. 

«N— o?"  teased  Delcote.  "You  as- 
tonish me.  For  whom,  then?  Some 
incredible  wight  who,  worse  than  late — 
isn't  going  to  show  up  at  all?  ... 
[114] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


Heaven  sent,  I  consider  myself.  .  .  . 
How  else  could  so  little  a  girl  have  man- 
aged so  big  a  turkey?" 

"There  .  .  .  isn't  any.  .  .  carving 
knife,"  whispered  Flame. 

The  tears  were  glistening  on  her  cheeks 
now  instead  of  just  in  her  eyes.  A  less 
observing  man  than  Delcote  might  have 
thought  the  tears  were  really  for  the 
carving  knife. 

"What?  No  carving  knife?"  he  roared 
imperiously.  "And  the  house  guaranteed 
'furnished'  ?"  Very  furiously  he  began  to 
hunt  all  around  the  kitchen  in  the  most 
impossible  places. 

"Oh,  it's  furnished  all  right,"  quivered 
Flame.  "It's  just  chock-full  of  dead 
things!  Pressed  flowers!  And  old  plush 
bags!  And  pressed  flowers!  And — and 
pressed  flowers!" 

[115] 


Peace  on  Earth 


"Great  Heavens!"  groaned  Delcote. 
"And  I  came  here  to  forget  'dead  things' !" 

"Your — your  Butler  said  you'd  had 
misfortunes,"  murmured  Flame. 

"Misfortunes?"  rallied  Delcote.  "I 
should  think  I  had!  In  a  single  year 
I've  lost  health, — money, — most  every- 
thing I  own  in  the  world  except  my  man 
and  my  dogs!" 

"They're  .  .  .  good  dogs,"  testified 
Flame. 

"And  the  Doctor's  sent  me  here  for 
six  months,"  persisted  Delcote,  "before 
he'll  even  hear  of  my  plunging  into  things 
again!" 

"Six  months  is  a — a  good  long  time," 
said  Flame.  "If  you'd  turn  the  hems  we 
could  make  yellow  curtains  for  the  par- 
lor in  no  time  at  all!" 

"W— we?"  stammered  Delcote. 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


"M— Mother,"  said  Flame. 
It's  a  long  time  since  any  dogs  lived  in 
the  Rattle-Pane  House." 

"Rattle-Brain  house?"  hridled  Delcote. 

"Rattle-Pan^  House,"  corrected  Flame. 

A  little  bit  worriedly  Delcote  returned 
to  his  seat. 

"I  shall  have  to  rend  the  turkey,  in- 
stead of  carve  it,"  he  said. 

"Rend  it,"  acquiesced  Flame. 

In  the  midst  of  the  rending  a  dark 
frown  appeared  between  Delcote's  eyes. 

"These — these  guests  that  you  were 
expecting ?"  he  questioned. 

"Oh,  stop!"  cried  Flame.  "Dreadful  as 
I  am  I  never — never  would  have  dreamed 
of  inviting  'guests'  P 

"This  'guest*  then,"  frowned  Delcote. 
"Was  he  .  .  .  ?" 

"Oh,      you     mean  .  .  .      Bertrand?" 
[117] 


Peace  on  Earth 


flushed  Flame.  "Oh,  truly,  I  didn't  in- 
vite him!  He  just  butted  in  ...  same  as 
you!" 

"Same  as  .  .  .  I  ?"  stammered  Delcote. 

"Well  .  .  ."  floundered  Flame.  "Well 
.  .  .  you  know  what  I  mean  and  .  .  ." 

With  peculiar  intentness  the  Master  of 
the  House  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  knotted 
white  handkerchief  which  Flame  had 
thrown  across  the  corner  of  her  chair. 

"And  is  this  'Bertrand'  person  so  ... 
so  dazzling,"  he  questioned,  "that  human 
eye  may  not  look  safely  upon  his  counte- 
nance?" 

"Bertrand  .  .  .  dazzling?"  protested 
Flame.  "Oh,  no!  He's  really  quite  dull. 
...  It  was  only,"  she  explained  with 
sudden  friendliness,  "It  was  only  that  I 
had  promised  Mother  not  to  'see' 
[118] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


him.  .  .  .  So,  of  course,  when  he  butted 
in  I  ..." 

"O— h,"  relaxed  the  Master  of  the 
House.  With  a  precipitous  flippancy  of 
manners  which  did  not  conform  at  all  to 
the  somewhat  tragic  austerity  of  his  face 
he  snatched  up  his  knife  and  fork  and 
thumped  joyously  on  the  table  with  the 
handles  of  them.  "And  some  people  talk 
about  a  country  village  being  dull  in  the 
Winter  Time!"  he  chuckled.  "With  a 
Dog's  Masquerade  and  a  Robbery  at  the 
Rectory  all  happening  the  same  evening!" 
Grabbing  her  cat  in  her  arms,  Flame 
jerked  her  chair  back  from  the  table. 

"A— a  robbery  at  the  Rectory?"  she 
gasped.  "Why— why,  I'm  the  Rectory! 
I  must  go  home  at  once!" 

"Oh,  Shucks!"  shrugged  the  Master  of 
[119] 


Peace  on  Earth 


the  House.  "It's  all  over  now.  But  the 
people  at  the  railroad  station  were  cer- 
tainly buzzing  about  it  as  I  came 
through." 

"B — buzzing  about  it?"  articulated 
Flame  with  some  difficulty. 

Expeditiously  the  Master  of  the 
House  resumed  his  rending  of  the  turkey. 

"Are  you  really  from  the  Rectory?"  he 
questioned.  "How  amusing.  . .  .  Well, 
there's  nothing  really  you  could  do  about 
it  now.  .  .  .  The  constable  and  his  pris- 
oner are  already  on  their  way  to  the 
County  Seat — wherever  that  may  be. 
And  a  freshly  'burgled'  house  is  rather 
a  creepy  place  for  a  young  girl  to  return 
to  all  alone.  .  .  .  Your  parents  are  away, 
I  believe?" 

"Con — stable  .  .  .  constable,"  babbled 
Flame  quite  idiotically. 
[120] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


"Yes,  tbe  regular  constable  was  off 
Christmasing  somewhere  it  seems,  so  he 
put  a  substitute  on  his  job,  a  stranger 
from  somewhere.  Some  substitute  that! 
Xo  mulling  over  hot  toddies  on  Christmas 
night  for  him!  He  ABO  the  marauder 
crawling  in  through  the  Kectory  window! 
He  scrsc  him  fumbling  now  to  the  left, 
now  to  the  right,  all  through  the  front 
hall!  He  followed  him  up  the  stairs  to  a 
closet  where  the  surer  was  evidently  kept! 
He  caught  the  man  red-handed  as  it  were! 
Or  rather— white-handed,"  flushed  the 
Master  of  the  House  for  some  quite  un- 
accountable reason.  "To  be  perfectly 
accurate,"  he  explained  conscientiously, 

lie  was  caught  with  a  pair  of— of " 

Delicately  he  speh  out  the  word.     "With 

a  pair  of — c-o-r-s-e-t-s  rolled  up  in  his 

hand.    But  inside  the  rofl  ft  seemed  there 

[121] 


Peace  on  Earth 


was  a  solid  silver — very  elaborate  carving 
set  which  the  Parish  had  recently  pres- 
ented. The  wretch  was  just  unrolling  it, 
— them,  when  he  was  caught." 

"That  was  Bertrand!"  said  Flame. 
"My  Father's  Lay  Reader." 

It  was  the  man's  turn  now  to  jump  to 
his  feet. 

"What?"  he  cried. 

"I  sent  him  for  the  carving  knife,"  said 
Flame. 

"What?"  repeated  the  man.  Con- 
sternation versus  Hilarity  went  racing 
suddenly  like  a  cat-and-dog  combat  across 
his  eyes. 

"Yes,"  said  Flame. 

From  the  outside  door  the  sound  of 
furious  knocking  occurred  suddenly. 

"That  sounds  to  me  like — like  parents' 
knocking,"  shivered  Flame. 
[122] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


"It  sounds  to  me  like  an  escaped  Lay 
Reader,"  said  her  Host. 

With  a  single  impulse  they  both 
started  for  the  door. 

"Don't  worry,  Little  Girl,"  whispered 
the  young  Stranger  in  the  dark  hall. 

"I'll  try  not  to,"  quivered  Flame. 

They  were  both  right,  it  seemed. 

It  was  Parents  and  the  Lay  Reader. 

All  three  breathless,  all  three  excited, 
all  three  reproachful, — they  swept  into 
the  warm,  balsam-scented  Rattle-Pane 
House  with  a  gust  of  frost,  a  threat  of 
disaster. 

"F— lame,"  sighed  her  Father. 

"Flame!"  scolded  her  Mother. 

"Flame?"  implored  the  Lay  Reader. 

"What  a  pretty  name,"  beamed  the 
Master  of  the  House.  "Pray  be  seated, 
everybody,"  he  gestured  graciously  to  left 
[123] 


Peace  on  Earth 


and  right, — shoving  one  dog  expeditiously 
under  the  table  with  his  foot,  while 
he  yanked  another  out  of  a  chair  with  his 
least  gesticulating  hand.  "This  is  cer- 
tainly a  very  great  pleasure,  I  assure 
you,"  he  affirmed  distinctly  to  Miss 
Flamande  Nourice.  "Returning  quite 
unexpectedly  to  my  new  house  this  lonely 
Christmas  evening,"  he  explained  very 
definitely  to  the  Rev.  Flamande  Nourice, 
"I  can't  express  to  you  what  it  means  to 
me  to  find  this  pleasant  gathering  of 
neighbors  waiting  here  to  welcome  me! 
And  when  I  think  of  the  effort  you  must 
have  made  to  get  here,  Mr.  Bertrand,"  he 
beamed.  "A  young  man  of  all  your  obli- 
gations and — complications " 

"Pleasant  .  .  .  gathering  of  neigh- 
bors?" questioned  Mrs.  Nourice  with 
some  emotion. 

[124] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


"Oh,  I  forgot,"  deprecated  the  Master 
of  the  House  with  real  concern.  "Your 
Christmas  season  is  not,  of  course,  as  in- 
herently 'pleasant'  as  one  might  wish. 
.  .  .  I  was  told  at  the  railroad  station  how 
you  and  Mr.  Xourice  had  heen  called 
away  hy  the  illness  of  a  relative." 

"We  were  called  away,"  confided  Mrs. 
Noun-ice  with  increasing  asperity,  "called 
away  at  considerable  inconvenience — hy 
a  very  sick  relative — to  receive  the  pres- 
ent of  a  Piebald  pony." 

"Oh,  goody!"  quickened  Flame  and  col- 
lapsed again  under  the  weight  of  her 
Mother's  glance. 

"And  then  came  this  terrible  telephone 
message,"  shuddered  her  Mother.  "The 
implied  dishonor  of  one  of  your  Father's 
most  trusted — most  trusted  associates!" 

"I  was  right  in  the  midst  of  such  an 
[125] 


Peace  on  Earth 


interesting  book,"  deplored  her  Father. 
"And  Uncle  Wally  wouldn't  lend  it." 

"So  we  borrowed  Uncle  Wally's  new 
automobile  and  started  right  for  home!" 
explained  her  Mother.  "It  was  at  the 
Junction  that  we  made  connections  with 
the  Constable  and  his  prisoner." 

"His — victim,"  intercepted  the  Lay 
Reader  coldly. 

At  this  interception  everybody  turned 
suddenly  and  looked  at  the  Lay  Reader. 
His  mouth  was  twisted  very  slightly  to 
one  side.  It  gave  him  a  rather  unpleas- 
ant snarling  expression.  If  this  expres- 
sion had  been  vocal  instead  of  muscular 
it  would  have  shocked  his  hearers. 

"Your  Father  had  to  go  on  board  the 

train  and  identify  him,"  persisted  Flame's 

Mother.     "It  was  very  distressing.  .  . 

The  Constable  was  most  unwilling  to  re- 

[126] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


lease  him.    Your  Father  had  to  use  every 
kind  of  an  argument." 

"Every  .  .  .  kind,"  mused  her  Father. 
"He  doesn't  even  deny  being  in  the 
house,"  continued  her  Mother,  '"being  in 
my  closet,  .  .  .  being  caught  with  a — 

n 

"With  a  silver  carving  knife  and 
fork  in  his  hand,"  intercepted  the  Lay 
Reader  hastily. 

"Yet  all  the  time  he  persists,"  frowned 
Flame's  Mother,  "that  there  is  some  one 
in  the  world  who  can  give  a  perfectly  good 
explanation  if  only, — he  won't  even  say 
Tie  or  she'  but  'ft',  if  only  ft'  would." 

Something  in  the  stricken  expression  of 
her  daughter's  face  brought  a  sudden 
nicker  of  suspicion  to  the  Mother's  eyes. 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  this, 
do  you,  Flamer  she  demanded,  "Is  it 
[127] 


Peace  on  Earth 


remotely  possible  that  after  your  promise 

to  me, — your  sacred  promise  to  me ?" 

The  whole  structure  of  the  home, — of 
mutual  confidence, — of  all  the  Future  it- 
self, crackled  and  toppled  in  her  voice. 

To  the  Lay  Reader's  face,  and  right 
through  the  Lay  Reader's  face,  to  the 
face  of  the  Master  of  the  House,  Flame's 
glance  went  homing  with  an  unaccount- 
able impulse. 

With  one  elbow  leaning  casually  on  the 
mantle-piece,  his  narrowed  eyes  faintly 
inscrutable,  faintly  smiling,  it  seemed 
suddenly  to  the  young  Master  of  the 
House  that  he  had  been  waiting  all  his 
discouraged  years  for  just  that  glance. 
His  heart  gave  the  queerest  jump. 

Flame's  face  turned  suddenly  very 
pink. 

Like  a  person  in  a  dream,  she  turned 
[128] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


back  to  her  Mother.  There  was  a  smile 
on  her  face,  but  even  the  smile  was  the 
smile  of  a  dreaming  person. 

"No—Mother,"  she  said,  "I  haven't 
seen  Bertrand  .  .  .  to-day." 

"Why,  you're  looking  right  at  him 
now!"  protested  her  exasperated  Mother. 

With  a  gentle  murmur  of  dissent, 
Flame's  Father  stepped  forward  and  laid 
his  arm  across  the  young  girl's  shoulder. 
"She — she  may  be  looking  at  him,"  he 
said.  "But  I'm  almost  perfectly  sure  that 
she  doesn't  ...  see  him." 

tfWhy,  whatever  in  the  world  do  you 
mean?"  demanded  his  wife.  ''Whatever 
in  the  world  does  anybody  mean?  If 
there  was  only  another  woman  here!  A 

mature  .  .  .  sane  woman!  A "  With 

a  flare  of  accusation  she  turned  from 

Flame  to  the  Master  of  the  House.  "This 

[129] 


Peace  on  Earth 


Miss  Flora  that  my  daughter  spoke  of, — 
where  is  she?  I  insist  on  seeing  her! 
Please  summon  her  instantly!" 

Crossing  genially  to  the  table  the 
Master  of  the  House  reached  down  and 
dragged  out  the  Bull  Dog  by  the  brindled 
scuff  of  her  neck.  The  scratch  on  her 
nose  was  still  bleeding  slightly.  And  one 
eye  was  closed. 

"This  is— Miss  Flora!"  he  said. 

Indignantly  Flame's  Mother  glanced 
at  the  dog,  and  then  from  her  daughter's 
face  to  the  face  of  the  young  man  again. 

"And  you  call  that — a  lady?"  she  de- 
manded. 

"N— not  technically,"  admitted  the 
young  man. 

For  an  instant  a  perfectly  tense  silence 
reigned.  Then  from  under  a  shadowy 
[130] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


basket  the  Cat  crept  out,  shining,  sinu- 
ous, with  extended  paw,  and  began  to 
pat  a  sprig  of  holly  cautiously  along  the 
floor. 

Yielding  to  the  reaction  Flame  bent 
down  suddenly  and  hugging  the  Wolf 
Hound's  head  to  her  breast  buried  her 
face  in  the  soft,  sweet  shagginess. 

"Not  sanitary,  Mother?"  she  protested. 
"Why,  they're  as  sanitary  as — as  violets  I" 

As  though  dreaming  he  were  late  to 
church  and  had  forgotten  his  vestments, 
Flame's  Father  reached  out  nervously 
and  draped  a  great  string  of  ground-pine 
stole-like  about  his  neck. 

"We  all,"  broke  in  the  Master  of  the 

House  quite  irrelevantly,  "seem  to  have 

experienced  a  slight  twinge  of  irritability 

— the  past  few  minutes.    Hunger,  I've  no 

[131] 


Peace  on  Earth 


doubt!  ...  So  suppose  we  all  sit  down 
together  to  this  sumptuous — if  somewhat 
chilled  repast?  After  the  soup  certainly, 
even  after  very  cold  soup,  all  explana- 
tions I'm  sure  will  be — cheerfully  and 
satisfactorily  exchanged.  Miss — Flame 
I  know  has  a  most  amusing  story  to  tell 
and " 

"Oh,  yes!"  rallied  Flame.  "And  it's 
almost  all  about  being  blindfolded  and 
sending  poor  Mr.  Lorello " 

"So  if  by  any  chance,  Mr. — Mr.  Ber- 
trand,"  interrupted  the  Master  of  the 
House  a  bit  abruptly,  "you  happen  to 
have  the  carving  knife  and  fork  still 
on  your  person  ...  I  thought  I  saw  a 
white  string  hanging " 

"I  have!"  said  the  Lay  Reader  with  his 
first  real  grin. 

With  great  formality  the  Master  of  the 
[132] 


Good  Will  to  Dogs 


House  drew  back  a  chair  and  bowed 
Flame's  Mother  to  it. 

Then  suddenly  the  Red  Setter  lifted 
his  sensitive  nose  in  the  air,  and  the 
spotted  Dalmatian  bristled  faintly  across 
the  ridge  of  his  back.  Through  the  whole 
room,  it  seemed,  swept  a  curious  cottony 
sense  of  Something- About-to-Happen! 
Was  it  that  a  sound  hushed?  Or  that  a 
hush  decided  suddenly  to  be  a  sound? 

With  a  little  sharp  catch  of  her  breath 
Flame  dashed  to  the  window,  and  swung 
the  sash  upward!  Where  once  had 
breathed  the  drab,  dusty  smell  of  frozen 
grass  and  mud  quickened  suddenly  a 
curious  metallic  dampness  like  the  smell 
of  new  pennies. 

"Mr.  .  .  .  Delcote!"  she  called. 

In  an  instant  his  slender  form  sil- 
[133] 


Peace  on  Earth 


houetted  darkly  with  hers  in  the  open 
window  against  the  eternal  mystery  and 
majesty  of  a  Christmas  night. 
"And  then  the  snow  came!" 


END 


[134] 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


'^271988 

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JUN  681991 


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